Typhlosis
by Del Rion
Summary: The apocalypse is happening and Tony Stark has just been blinded by the enemy. Earth's remaining heroes must work together to protect their own – and to win a war most have already declared will be humanity's last. (Written during NaNoWriMo 2013 for Apocalypse Bang (round 2) and HC bingo (round 4). Cover art & fanmix by monkiainen.)
1. Chapter 1: Whisper - Scream

**Story Info**

**Title:** Typhlosis

**Author:** Del Rion

**Fandom:** The Avengers & Iron Man (MCU)

**Genre:** Hurt/comfort, action

**Rating:** M / FRM

**Characters:** Bruce Banner (Hulk), Clint Barton (Hawkeye), J.A.R.V.I.S., James "Rhodey" Rhodes (War Machine), Steve Rogers (Captain America), Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow), Tony Stark (Iron Man), Thor, Tony's bots (DUM-E & U).  
_Appearances & mentions:_ Phil Coulson, Jane Foster, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Pepper Potts, Betty Ross, Erik Selvig.

**Pairings:** Pepper/Tony (brief), Jane/Thor (implied), Betty/Bruce (implied)

**Summary:** The apocalypse is happening and Tony Stark has just been blinded by the enemy. Earth's remaining heroes must work together to protect their own – and to win a war most have already declared will be humanity's last.  
Complete.

**Written for:** Round 2 of _Apocalypse Big Bang_. Written during _NaNoWriMo_ 2013.  
Also fills the "loss of vision" square of my card on _Hurt/Comfort Bingo_'s round 4.

**Cover art & fanmix:** **_monkiainen_** (here: wordsbym . livejournal . c0m /13187 . html)

**Warnings:** Major character death, violence and permanent injury (blindness), apocalyptic scenery (general destruction and death). _Iron Man 3_ and _Thor: The Dark World_ compliant (may contain minor spoilers), language.

**Disclaimer:** Iron Man, Avengers, the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Marvel Cinematic Universe, including characters and everything else, belong to Marvel, Marvel Studios, Marvel Television, Jon Favreau, Joss Whedon, Shane Black, Kenneth Branagh, Joe Johnston, Louis Leterrier, Alan Taylor, Paramount Pictures, Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures, Universal Pictures and ABC & Mutant Enemy. In short: I own nothing; this is pure fiction created to entertain likeminded fans for no profit whatsoever.

**Beta:** Mythra (mythras-fire)

**Feedback:** Most welcome (constructive criticism is appreciated).

* * *

**About ****_Typhlosis_****:** This story is constructed from back-and-forth jumps between "past" and "present" – or, for the purpose of making the storytelling even harder to follow, "present" and "past", in that order.

This year (2013) was the first time I entered NaNoWriMo. November was a hard month for me, work-wise, but I managed to pull through either way and finish this story in time with a proper word count, hitting 'The End' on November 30th.

Also, I feel like I should admit that I'm not a blind person, I don't know a blind person, nor have I ever interacted with one. I did a little research, but mostly went with a gut feeling of what it would be like to be left blind in the middle of an apocalyptic war – especially if you're Tony Stark.

* * *

**Chapters and statuses:** Below you see the writing process of the story's chapters. If there is no text after the chapter's title, then it is finished and checked. Possible updates shall be marked after the title.

**Chapter 1: Whisper / Scream**  
**Chapter 2: Void / Touch**  
**Chapter 3: Vision / Darkness**  
**Chapter 4: Serenity / Grief**  
**Chapter 5: Together / Apart**  
**Chapter 6: Calm / Rage**  
**Chapter 7: Faded / Technicolor**  
**Chapter 8: Fighter / Cripple**  
**Chapter 9: Query / Solution**  
**Chapter 10: Start / Outcome**

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Chapter 1: Whisper / Scream**

* * *

**Day 103 of the Alien-Human War**

His hands felt out the floor, looking for clues, a free path or an obstacle.

Labored breaths filled his surroundings, blocking out all other sounds. Each inhale and exhale was _too loud_. He needed to be able to listen, but he needed to breathe, too – just not so loudly. It took a lot of effort to slow down, to tell his lungs he could breathe calmly; that he was _okay_, and was going to continue to be _okay_ even if he breathed less heavily.

The suffocating darkness remained after his breaths calmed; the air was too damp and too hot. The heat was coming from his body, most likely, but the dripping sound and the wetness on the floor suggested cracked pipes. Not enough to flood the room, but enough to leave his pants soaked where he was crawling on all fours.

A familiar voice called to him from a distance.

His blood began to rush in his ears, continuing where his loud breaths had stopped – blocking out parts of the words directed at him and making his breaths stutter once more at a pace that mimicked panic. He couldn't afford to lose the thread of control; there was no one out there, and if he lost the voice, he would be crawling in circles until the building came down on top of him.

_"Sir."_ Louder and firmer, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice pierced the haze of terror that kept wrapping tighter and tighter around his chest. _"Keep going forward. There is a table a little to your left."_

The speakers crackled, and he imagined water dripping down the walls, short-circuiting electronics. If the speakers broke, he would be left alone in the darkness, wandering around.

_"There is an earpiece on the table, in a smooth, rectangular box approximately two by four inches long."_

He bumped into the table and felt his way up along one leg, all the way to the smooth top that wasn't wet. Lifting his body, he felt around, encountering objects that weren't rectangular or smooth. He dismissed them, moving on, not stopping to debate what they might be, or if they could be of use: J.A.R.V.I.S. wanted him to find the earpiece, which was logical: if the electronics in the room failed, the AI would still be able to communicate with him.

If he found the box, got it open, didn't drop the earpiece and got it into his ear the right way…

His fingers searched the table, encountered something that could be a box, but it was the wrong size. J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn't giving him any more orders, which meant he was either close, or the connection to the room had been lost.

In the distance, something exploded, and shivers traveled down the structures of the facility.

He dropped the box he was holding, deciding it wasn't the right one, and kept looking. Papers slipped beneath his fingertips, a few pens, something that could be a tablet – _useless_ – and finally he encountered what had to be the right box. His fingers wrapped around it securely to drag it over. He made sure not to drop it, to keep it shut, and once the box was in his hands, he traced the seam, found the locking mechanism, and slowly pried the small case open.

His fingers shook as he searched the insides, finding a familiar shape in an indentation formed by the box's two halves. He pulled the item loose, rotated it between his fingers, then placed it in his ear without thinking, praying that he would get it right – and he did.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice acknowledged his success directly inside his ear. _"Shall we move on?"_

"Where are we going?" he asked, pretending his voice didn't shake as the building did. "Where is everyone?"

_"The Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D. and military personnel are engaged in a battle on the premises. The lab is secure for the time being. My last scans show you are not injured."_ A pause. _"The helmet is nearby. The implants are operational."_

He dropped the small box in order to slide his fingers across his scalp – no hair, recently shaved. Stitches… fresh, still covered with gauze. He could feel, faintly, the new bumps in his skull where the implants had been placed.

_"Twenty feet ahead at ten o'clock,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. instructed.

Dropping his hands, he scooted forward. He wasn't sure if he could – or should – walk so soon after the operation, so he remained in a crawling position.

A waft of disinfectant rose from somewhere, like a cloud, as he followed the AI's directions. He tried to recall what he knew of the shape of the room – the layout, the objects he had touched when coming in – but it all blurred together into a damp mess beneath his hands.

_"There is broken glass on the floor,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. informed him. _"Please be careful."_ The pleading tone was unlike the AI, signaling concern. Whether it was directed at the situation in the lab or the battle outside, he didn't know.

He slowed down, feeling the floor with more caution. Seconds trickled by. He could feel no shards of broken glass, which made him wonder whether he was going in the wrong direction. J.A.R.V.I.S. had to be observing the room in some way, to tell him if he was going the wrong way…

_"Careful,"_ the AI said again, voice so very soft in his ear.

He felt the first cool shard on the floor and touched it carefully; he didn't want to cut his hand.

_"Eight more feet,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. stated. _"Dead ahead."_ Whether it was an encouragement or a mere observation, it was hard to tell. Through all this, the AI hadn't truly differentiated between the two, for which he was glad: he didn't need yet another person telling him he _couldn't do this anymore_, or saying _it would get easier_.

What he could do was get to the helmet, stick his head in it and _pray_ that the calculations had been correct. He could do that much, crawling on his hands and knees in the never-ending darkness, and once he accomplished that goal, all bets would be off.

His hands pressed down on a layer of glass lying on the floor. He made sure not to drag his legs or his hands, lifting them up and pressing them down in even motions that probably looked moronic, but one inch at a time he was narrowing that eight feet down to zero, and finally J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke again: _"Right next to your right hand, sir."_

He stilled and knelt then reached out, searching for a moment due to the new position. Finally his hand encountered smooth metal, fingers curling round it. The weight of it was lighter than what he had expected, the shape a little different – a stripped down version of Iron Man's helmet. He heard pieces unlock, the material shifting under his grip, and knew the helmet was opening to make space for his head.

A cocoon that had once been a place of tranquility and freedom…

It would be, again – especially if this worked.

Tony's fingers pressed hard at the sides of the helmet as he lifted it and with blind faith placed it over his head.

* * *

**Day 42 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony stood in front of the sweeping wall of glass, looking at the ocean. The sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the water, clouds scattered across the sky. It was a perfect evening, and nothing whatsoever suggested that for over a month, the population of Earth had been fighting against an invading alien force – and was on the constant verge of losing.

Today was day forty-two, and Tony's body ached remembering each and every one of the hours spent fighting, running, re-grouping and fighting again.

He heard a faint, clattering sound and turned around to look at Pepper. "Are you almost done?" he asked, seeing her pull something out of a hallway closet.

"We're not in a rush," she told him, voice tighter than her words alone implied.

"The aliens are invading," Tony needlessly reminded his girlfriend.

"I thought Fury reported their main force was currently amassing somewhere along the border between China and Russia?" she noted, turning the item she had picked from the closet over in her hands, then looked at Tony. "Don't you want to take anything?"

Tony shrugged. "It's all… material. I have all I need," he explained. "You, the bots, my suits, the team."

Pepper gave him a soft smile. "I never thought I would hear you add 'the team' to that list."

"They come in handy when you're fighting a few thousand high-tech-wielding aliens," Tony dodged the bullet.

Pepper didn't say anything for a while, and Tony looked at the ocean again. The sun was even lower, and the water had taken on a sickeningly orange tint. He knew it wasn't just the sun but the poison the aliens had been pumping into Earth's waters since their arrival. Most scientists theorized it was to drive the indigenous population – including humanity – further into disarray and to weaken their defense. Whatever the reason, it was fairly effective, and one had to watch where to drink from these days – or what to eat, because if an animal survived in the poisonous water long enough to be caught, it would certainly infect anyone who took a bite out of it. Plants, for the time being, had been kept mostly safe, crops carefully watered from untainted sources, but it was only a matter of time before the aliens stepped up their game…

Tony looked at the sky, half-expecting an enemy armada to float into his line of sight, but he knew the odds of that were slim to none: the aliens had no interest in small, individual groups or dwellings. Even where Tony had re-built his house in Malibu, after the unfortunate run-in with AIM left his home at the bottom of the ocean, it was remote enough not to attract their enemy's attention.

That was why Tony had brought Pepper here now: to get the things she had missed over the last month-and-a-half, seeing as there were no guarantees as to when the aliens might change tactics and begin to target anything showing signs of human life.

Pepper moved from the closet to the kitchen, placing several items on one of the counters, then continued on to another part of the house. Tony wandered over to the counter, taking a look at the collection that had grown over the last hour: various spices – which weren't as stupid a choice as one might have thought, when food supplies became somewhat limited – a few books, a small photo album, and the necklace Tony had given to her in Hong Kong, after he had the arc reactor removed.

Necessities, mementos and something to pass the time – all of which Tony understood, on some level.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up, voice smooth in the new sound-system. Tony was going to miss that, because none of the labs had been built with his AI in mind and this house was, if possible, better equipped for their interaction than the first.

It didn't mean Tony wasn't coming back here. He hadn't given up on this war, unlike some people, and since he was going to be out on the frontlines fighting it…

_"The latest calculations have finished,"_ the AI went on as Tony's thoughts drifted to the recent past.

"Which ones?" Tony frowned.

_"The ones you compiled of the water toxicity with regard to the new water filtering prototype,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. reminded him. _"I have also received the first readings from the alien corpse Agent Coulson's team encountered."_

"Lucky bastards," Tony muttered. "We've been trying to kill those things for weeks, and Coulson just trips over one!"

It wasn't that they hadn't killed any aliens – far from it, considering how busy Thor and the Hulk had been. The aliens, however, were encased in protective armor that made even Tony a little jealous – especially after a bruising battle – and even though the creature inside perished, the armor either kept fighting or self-destructed, not leaving anything but charred parts for Tony, Bruce and other scientists to poke at afterwards.

That was until a few days ago when Phil Coulson and his team more or less literally stumbled upon an alien corpse and delivered it to the nearest necessarily-equipped facility for tests.

"Copy the data to my cloud server," Tony ordered.

_"Already in progress, sir."_ Tony had been moving everything of value to various remote locations since the end of the world was nearing and one had a hard time predicting when the very tangible shit would hit the proverbial fan.

Tony moved away from the kitchen counter and activated a screen on a wall near it, giving the data from the alien body a cursory glance. There were many as yet unidentified elements listed, and it seemed Elizabeth Ross' pet theory that the aliens weren't actually carbon-based life forms might actually be true. Tony made a mental note to tell Bruce to pass on his congratulations to her, the next time they spoke – and then demand the most effective way to kill these things en masse.

"Maybe it's not about us needing the water, but them not liking it," he mused out loud, looking at the read-outs from a few tissue samples.

_"That would seem a viable option, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. agreed.

"Maybe I should go and buy a Super Soaker, just in case." J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't give him lip about how useless such a weapon would be, which was saying something. Tony browsed through the rest of the data with a few sweeps of his hand, then closed the window and watched a small progress bar indicate how far they were in transferring all local files to their back-up destinations.

Seeing as there was still time and Pepper was in the middle of her packing, Tony went back to taking a better look at the new information, running a few virtual tests on the samples. Even the preliminary results showed him that the aliens weren't allergic to water, but clearly they didn't need it to survive – at least not in the form it existed on planet Earth.

"I'm sure someone's already going through all this…" Tony started.

_"They are, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. agreed. _"However, given the limited time, feel free to complete your thought."_

Tony huffed. "Give Dr. Ross a heads up of my random ramblings," he ordered, knowing J.A.R.V.I.S. would know what to do. "Seeing as our survival depends on a reliable water source, it's smart to start with why they're going to so much trouble to pollute it…"

_"Other than to destroy life on Earth?"_

"Yeah. While it's a very good plan, I'm not going to assume that's all there is to it until I'm sure."

_"Of course, sir. Leaving a note in Dr. Ross' inbox as we speak. She is currently in a meeting, but will no doubt look at your message once she returns to her work."_

"The world's ending and they're holding meetings?" Tony grumbled.

_"If you cared to sit down for any of the meetings Director Fury, Captain Rogers and Miss Potts attempt to throw your way, you might understand the importance –"_

"Not you, too, J," Tony cut the AI off. "I'm trying to keep my company afloat – the company that is designing and manufacturing most of the weapons currently used in this goddamn war," he snapped.

_"Everyone knows how you loathe to be building weapons again, sir. They appreciate your sacrifice."_

"They had better," he muttered. "When I'm not designing better ways to blow these alien a-holes back to the dimension they came from, I'm out there, fighting the good fight – and they still expect me to sit through meetings!"

_"It sounds very inconsiderate."_

"I'm glad we're in agreement – and why am I even talking to you about this?" he asked. "You should be on _my_ side."

_"I am, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, as if he had never disagreed with Tony in the first place. _"Sir,"_ the AI went on unexpectedly, sounding urgent all of a sudden. _"An alien aircraft is approaching the Los Angeles County area."_

"Just one?" Tony confirmed.

_"One Category 3: Strike Team."_ Which meant a fast, small aircraft with a crew of two or more, armed to the teeth.

So far, the alien force had been divided into six different categories by the military scientists after compiling encounters from around the globe.

Category 1 was called 'Drones' – a cluster of ships able to merge and divide, cleaning up and controlling seized areas. They were armed but not accompanied by or transporting actual aliens, far as they had seen. Considering that Tony had conducted a post-mortem on a few of the Drones, he was pretty sure they had that category well documented.

Category 2 was 'Maintenance', including robots and aliens that never took part in battle and instead focused on keeping the alien ships, battle armor and the aliens themselves in fighting condition. They didn't appear to be armed or fit for combat, but were often followed by either Drones or a Strike Team – or just random alien troops to ensure their ability to work and then retreat from the battleground.

Category 4 had been dubbed 'Troop Transfer' – big, clumsy but sufficiently armed and well-protected ships, transferring alien troops from one place to the next.

Category 5 stood for 'War Ship', of which there had been blessedly few: those aircrafts were large, highly weaponized, and able to bring total destruction to a small city in a matter of hours. Tony had never been inside one of them, but he had almost been pulverized by one of their main cannons and even the Hulk had a full day's workout ahead of him whenever they went up against a War Ship.

Category 6 was a 'Flag Ship' – a single ship only seen orbiting the Earth. No one knew if a Flag Ship was battle-ready, or if it was fit to enter the atmosphere, but they were fairly certain that was where the highest chain of command resided. There had been several attempts to destroy the Flag Ship, but so far all those attempts had failed. Tony, among many, had been tasked with finding a way to get past the ship's defenses, and Tony was aware of the pressure put on him specifically.

None of that knowledge of their enemy was enough to lull him into calmness now that a Category 3 was sighted nearby. It was a known fact that the aliens had only attacked major targets so far, from big cities to strategic military locations, but Tony had fought too many an enemy to dismiss a possible threat when it was approaching.

"Track their flight pattern," Tony ordered, and J.A.R.V.I.S. brought it up on a screen.

_"Still approaching,"_ the AI noted needlessly.

"Prepare for Blackout Protocol."

_"Shall I warn Miss Potts?"_

"Please do."

Tony's eyes followed the ship's flight pattern on the screen. It was likely that it was flying past them to join the war effort in Eurasia. The human opposition had made a good stand there, from what Tony had heard, and the Avengers were going to be deployed within 36 hours if the fighting continued. Meaning: the Avengers would join the fight if the human resistance was able to hold off the alien invaders for that long. Right now it seemed likely Tony was going to suit up and fly there with the rest of his team, which was a good sign. There had been way too many losses lately, and any victory was welcome.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. just told me there's an alien ship in the area," Pepper's voice intruded on his thoughts as she walked over, stopping beside him. Tony offered no explanation, knowing she would be able to see it for herself on the screen. "It's going to pass us by," she decided finally. "Its trajectory is taking it further north."

"I can see that," Tony agreed.

"You're not in the fight; not today," Pepper added gently, touching his arm – luring Tony to look away from the screen, at her. "Go to the workshop, take a few things with you," she encouraged.

"I have plenty of tools at hand wherever I go –"

"Then prepare the bots for the trip," she insisted. "Do something other than stand here, staring at that screen!" Pepper looked flustered and tired all of a sudden. "You'll be heading out there in a matter of hours and I need you here with me, while I can still have that."

He gave Pepper an apologetic smile, sliding his hands to her waist. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I know you're right, and I should –"

_"Flight trajectory changing,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. alerted. _"Adjusting calculations of possible destinations."_

"Let it be, J," Tony ordered. "Let me know if something truly alarming happens." He looked at Pepper, who smiled at him. "Maybe we should make the most of being at home, seeing as it might be the last time…"

"I'm fairly certain we don't have time for _that_," Pepper teased but leaned in to kiss him anyway.

_"Category 3 enemy aircraft is slowing down. Current flight pattern will cross over Malibu."_

Pepper drew back from the kiss, looking a bit more hesitant.

Tony's hands tightened on her waist as he turned his head to look at the screen again.

_"Aircraft's altitude and speed dropping."_

"That's way lower than the usual flight speed," Tony noted. "Prepare for Blackout."

_"Starting to power down,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. acknowledged.

A non-powered building shouldn't attract any kind of attention from the aliens; the lights dimmed slowly around them, as well as all the equipment that wasn't required to keep track of the enemy ship's movements.

Tony's eyes remained vigilantly on the screen, following the dot on the map and the readings next to it, indicating steady yet lower-than-average speed, not to mention the low altitude. As he watched, the dot began moving closer and closer to the area where they were located, and although the probability was ridiculously small, Tony wasn't about to be caught with his pants down. "Prep the armor," he murmured to J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Tony, no," Pepper told him, voice lower than was necessary, as if the hush of the house wouldn't care for loud noises. "If you go out there guns blazing, the aliens might retaliate. Just let them fly by."

She was right, of course. He was just being overly cautious when it wasn't necessary or called-for. The aliens didn't make surprise visits to private establishments; their minds were set towards bigger goals, and while Tony would have loved to show them how wrong they were, he knew that in this instance, it was better to bide his time and actually come up with a plan.

The dot closed on Malibu, not showing any signs of speeding up – but not giving any cause for alarm, either. The aliens could simply be checking out the Edwards Air Force Base or some other military area before taking off towards the real battle. Usually Drones took care of such things, but seeing a Category 3 scouting wasn't totally out of place, either.

As they waited in silence, the dot adjusted its course once more. "Is it just me, or are they making a beeline to the house?" Tony asked out loud.

_"Indeed, sir."_

"Just wait," Pepper begged, nails digging into the skin of his arms through his shirt.

The dot got closer and closer, moving right at them – then over them and past them. They could hear the rumble of engines, the windows rattling a little. The sound passed, slowly, and Tony arched his neck to see the shadow of the aircraft pass over the house and drift towards the ocean.

Pepper let out a sigh of relief, no matter her conviction that the aliens weren't interested in them. They never were – until the Category 3 ship turned around above the water, coming to a standstill. It was a creepily similar moment to when Tony's house was last blown into pieces, and he couldn't help his heart beating a little faster.

The aircraft began to approach, slowly.

"Pepper, get in the suit," Tony ordered, letting go of her.

"Tony –"

"Don't argue with me!" he snapped. "Get in the suit, right now." He looked out through the wide windows and felt like someone was staring right back at him, across the distance, from the alien aircraft. "J.A.R.V.I.S., get the bots into the exit tunnel. Seal the workshop."

_"Yes, sir."_

In the corner of the room, by the door, an Iron Man armor came to life, stepping forward. It opened up like a cocoon, waiting to admit Pepper inside.

"Go," Tony urged her.

"They have no reason to pay attention to us," Pepper argued, but her eyes flew to the windows. The house vibrated with the proximity of the ship, and it must have been close because Pepper started to move towards the suit, regardless of her initial refusal to enter the armor. "What about you?" she asked. "You only have the one armor with you."

"I'll be fine," Tony promised. His skin was heating up with the looming possibility of a battle. It was too late to get Pepper downstairs and into the tunnel with the bots, which meant he had to get her into the suit, out of the way, and perhaps have J.A.R.V.I.S. fly another one over if things got tricky. Chances were, even now, that the aliens were just intimidating them, although that wasn't like them.

Tony turned to look out the window again, but the ship was gone, all of a sudden, making him start. "J.A.R.V.I.S., where the hell –"

The wall behind him blew wide open, sending glass, concrete and numerous other objects flying through the air. The impact sent both him and Pepper crashing to the floor, the suit equally unprepared for the assault.

_"Sir!"_ the AI exclaimed before the audio screeched and went silent.

Another explosion immediately followed, larger than the first. Tony briefly envisioned the house collapsing into the ocean, again, despite his newer designs making that less of a possibility.

When that didn't happen, he scrambled to his knees, ears ringing, dust filling his eyes and clogging up his lungs. He felt small, rhythmic vibrations, then managed to discern the familiar footfalls of alien battle armors. His heart felt like it had jumped into his throat, and knowing what danger loomed just feet from him, the Extremis came ablaze.

Tony's vision cleared and his lungs could draw in air again. From the midst of the floating dust and smoke, he could make out three of the alien armors – and then Pepper's form on the floor, just five feet from the nearest alien, lying still.

Too still.

"Pepper!"

He didn't care about the danger, or the chance that he might have gone unnoticed if he stayed still and quiet. Tony got to his feet and rushed towards her, dismissing the small puddles of blood on the broken floor around her and the way her ribs didn't expand with even a shallow breath. The only thought in his head was that _if he got to her, she would be okay_.

The nearest alien whirled towards him, taking half a step, then fired a weapon at him. Tony's feet skidded on the floor, managing to move him to the side just in time to avoid a bleeding crater in his side.

Another alien moved forward, communicating something to the first, and Tony's irrational hope turned into blind rage as one metal foot landed on Pepper's arm and she didn't react in any way.

For a few seconds Tony saw nothing, felt nothing; he comprehended nothing but the potential loss and the burning guilt of being _right there_ and still unable to save Pepper, _again_. Last time she had survived, but it had been her request that Tony remove the Extremis from her – which had been her route to salvation – to life.

Part of Tony knew she was dead before one of the aliens struck him hard, throwing him to the floor. No sooner was he down than the aliens crowded him, two of them holding him down – not that it would have taken even one; in a suit, Tony could have put up a fight… _The suit._ Where the hell was the armor?! It had been standing right there when the aliens blasted their way in.

Extremis burned beneath his skin, yet for all its destructive power when Tony truly unleashed it, it wasn't enough to burn through the alien armor.

The third alien leaned over him, settling one large, armored hand on his head, keeping it pinned to the floor. Instead of staring at his opponents, Tony glanced over at the unmoving form of the love of his life. The fight drained out of him, momentarily. No more responsibilities; no longer carrying the weight of the world, protecting it from one unimaginable threat after another; no more end of the world and fighting for his life.

He could rest…

Something liquid dripped down to his face, into his eyes, and Tony's head reared against the alien's hold, a scream breaking loose from his lips. He kicked and struggled, trying to bring up his hands, to wipe away the burn that felt like acid, burrowing down and down until Extremis met it half-way but even that didn't take away the burn, the pain – and the darkness that followed.

_to be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Void - Touch

**Chapter 2: Void / Touch**

* * *

**Day 103 of the Alien-Human War**

* * *

Unyielding pressure squeezed his skull as the thin helmet closed around his head, from the base of his skull to the bridge of his nose, covering everything from his eyes to the tops of his cheeks and above.

The sensation wasn't completely new to him: Iron Man's helmet design was snug, not leaving a whole lot of wiggle room. It was a safety feature more than anything, because room to move left room for impact, and impact led to physical trauma. The fact that Tony hadn't broken his nose in all the years of wearing the armor was saying something about his foresight on that front.

Tony would have preferred some wiggle room when the pieces locked into place and the pressure against the stitches and implants grew to an almost unbearable level; it felt like the implants were being pressed into his brain – which might have been actually happening, considering the nature of the operation he had just gone through.

It was too soon, he knew that. He was supposed to be resting instead of crawling around the lab; he was supposed to be in a drug-induced coma, recovering from invasive surgery – not jumping the gun before any actual tests could determine whether the implants were a success or not.

The helmet tightened a fraction more, then stilled, and Tony wasn't certain what he had expected. A lightshow? The thought drove an insane laugh out of him in a helpless burst of emotion that would have moved him to tears if that were possible. The idea that something could actually penetrate the darkness he had been caught up in for almost two months was _absurd_.

That was why he was here, though, with his head stitched, implants connected to his brain, wearing a helmet that was starting to border on extremely painful.

He had hoped and prayed – and then he had trusted the others, allowing their faith to overcome his own judgment of what was possible. Tony had liked the math because he craved an end to the darkness more than anything. To be able to live his life – or at least choose how he would die if the war ended badly for mankind.

Had his desire to overcome this obstacle become so strong that he was willing to overlook what was essentially a leap of faith? Theory and practice were never the same – not unless he himself could prove otherwise. Tony had never allowed anyone to finish something he could finish himself…

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke in his ear, jarring him painfully out of his chaotic thoughts, _"I am commencing remote calibration. I apologize in advance: it may feel unpleasant."_

"More than how it already feels?" Tony challenged and tensed, preparing for something _worse_.

As he waited, he grew aware of a trickle down the back of his neck. Whether it was sweat or blood, he didn't know; he was feeling hot and cold all at once, dreading pain, wanting it to be over, but nothing was happening. Perhaps J.A.R.V.I.S.'s calculations were erroneous, starting from something small the AI couldn't have comprehended and causing an anomaly in everything that followed it, rupturing the entire system –

Lights burst into life in front of him, making Tony actually yell in surprise – and in response to the hot stab of pain that followed. It was bright for one second before everything plummeted back to pitch-black the next. Shapes twisted, time and time again, as if he were watching a program load, arranging itself layer by layer on the screen, but it wasn't a screen that he was seeing but an image directly fried into his brain, past his optic nerves. Tony hadn't thought it would feel different but it did, and his hands shot out to the floor, fingers clenching, trying to hold on, to ground himself.

His brain was on fire. The longer it went on, the more a part of him hoped that whatever was happening would cause an uncontrolled bleed and he would die quickly, peacefully, not knowing it was happening.

There were moments when he wasn't sure he felt the floor beneath him anymore; even longer seconds passed when he wasn't certain he knew how much time was actually passing. He wanted to sag down to the floor but was afraid to move: J.A.R.V.I.S. was connecting to his _brain_, and any extra thought or command could disrupt what the AI was currently doing.

Including every thought, breath, heartbeat…

"Fuck," Tony murmured, trying not to speak but needing to ground himself – to distract his mind from the inevitable panic. The burning sensation, like someone had just put extra pressure on every blood vessel in his head, continued on, and imminent death seemed all the more likely.

The twisted lightshow continued for a while, making his stomach twist. Finally, though, it eased up, dimming slightly, then began to take on more straightforward forms. It felt like someone was adjusting a camera, the image changing from simple lines to blurred areas that followed the same shapes. It seemed almost flat, as if looking at a screen again, which was making Tony's stomach do a different kind of twisting knot.

He wanted to tell J.A.R.V.I.S. to turn it off – that he would rather be in the darkness – then suddenly the entire image _pulsed_, giving it a sudden 3D shape.

_"The implants are online, sir: current versions of wire frame, infrared and sound propagation are all operational and functioning. The colors and shades are still far from desired optimums but fine-tuning must wait: we are losing the battle outside, and you must leave the premises."_

Tony tilted his head. The image had settled, but he could hardly call it 'vision' at this point because it made very little sense to him. "I don't… I'm not sure it works," he confessed.

_"Nothing suggests a malfunction,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. argued. _"It may take some getting used to…"_

"I don't understand what I'm seeing!" Tony snapped, reaching out to see if that would help, and the moment he caught sight of what was possibly his hand, he froze. "J, the image is upside-down." And, coming to realize that, it felt like his stomach tried to drop from its place in order to compensate for the immediate sensation of hanging upside-down – which he wasn't, obviously, but fooling his brain into thinking that was another thing entirely.

_"Ah,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said in his ear, and just like that the image righted itself – alongside Tony's stomach.

He sagged a little on the floor, feeling strange relief course through him. His head still burned with waves of pain, but it was better now, making him assume the worst was over. Perhaps Extremis was taking over…

Knowing he should, technically, be able to see that now, Tony looked down at his hands. The implants adjusted the sight, from frames to a more accurate picture, and indeed, bright lights were traveling across him. He could even detect the lines beneath his clothing, and then saw something much darker, cooler, deep beneath him. He wanted to squint – which no longer had the actual effect of seeing better – and kept trying to figure out what it was…

_"Sir,"_ the AI prompted again. _"Please stay focused."_

Tony tore his gaze away from the floor and his own body, trying to map out the room instead. He saw objects, hundreds of them, his brain attempting to comprehend what they were from what it already knew of the world: walls, doors, tables, chairs, computers, a broken pipe dripping water that was significantly cooler than the temperature of the room, the shards of glass reflecting the light, small items here and there…

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. tried again. _"Could you please try to stand up? It might take a while for your body to grow used to it."_ Tony knew the AI didn't mean standing in and of itself, but the fact that his inner ear and the sensory system of his body had to grow used to this new method of seeing.

It was entirely possible he was in a light state of shock when he pushed himself up on his knees, keeping his focus on the opposite wall, trying not to think too much about the fact that he automatically tried to see _through_ the wall, into the pipes and wiring that ran inside it, the temperature changes giving him an unnaturally informed view on what lay in front of him. It was easy to get lost in it – so lost that when he finally managed to get upright, he ended up back on his knees, hard, because it felt like gravity was pulling him to the side and his body had no idea how to compensate. "Fuck," he mused again, knees aching from the fall.

_"Slowly, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. encouraged him.

"I realize that, thanks," Tony replied with a sharp edge to his words as he knelt again, then carefully began to put his feet under him.

_"Take your time."_

"I thought you said we're in a hurry?" Tony remembered, vertigo nearly robbing his feet from under him again. He wanted to throw up.

_"The battle is not going in our favor. I'm bringing Mark 50 towards you as we speak."_

Tony nodded, unsure whether J.A.R.V.I.S. could see it but knowing he didn't need to respond verbally. His hips kept twitching from side to side, his arms wide, trying to keep him from falling. Finally, when he felt like he got it, he curled his fingers into tight fists and took a tentative step forward, knowing that could be a deal-breaker.

His balance was far from perfect, but he could actually _see_ where he was going – like where the floor was in relation to the rest of the room, no matter how much his sight tried to slip past concrete and into whatever lay beyond it. His heart beat faster with excitement and a smile of triumph, relief and joy pulled at his lips, impossible to keep at bay. "I'm so proud of you," Tony confessed.

_"Thank you, sir. It was my pleasure."_

Tony didn't doubt that, knowing what J.A.R.V.I.S.'s primary function was. Their teamwork had changed over the years, after Tony became Iron Man and J.A.R.V.I.S. followed him to the battlefields in the armor. After all this time, though, the AI hadn't forgotten that the original purpose for his existence was to help Tony, and J.A.R.V.I.S. had pulled through in Tony's greatest time of need. There were very few words that even came close to describing how that made Tony feel – and the beautiful part of it was that J.A.R.V.I.S. already knew.

* * *

**Day 43 of the Alien-Human War**

You chirped up ahead. Whether the sound signaled trouble, an encouragement or a simple status report, Tony didn't know. His fingers remained clenched around Dummy's arm, the continuous sound of the bot's wheels rolling across the tunnel floor a thread he kept following with an iron determination.

Two hours ago the partially destroyed Mark 48 had pulled itself up from the floor and blasted the three armored aliens with all the artillery it had. What Tony remembered of the brief battle, aside from his own screams of pain, was J.A.R.V.I.S.'s command in his ears to _get out_.

Tony hadn't been able to move – not even when the bots came back out and dragged him to the exit tunnel in the basement. He had stopped screaming by then, and Dummy had brought him a strip of fabric that he had tied tightly over his eyes, to resist the urge to touch the injury he couldn't see or assess.

Above them, Mark 48 had self-destructed and taken out the enemies – alongside with half the building, which J.A.R.V.I.S. apologized for when the door was firmly sealed behind them, leaving only the tunnel, the bots, and the AI's soothing voice in his ears. _"The Avengers have been alerted to your situation, sir,"_ the AI had said. _"They are on their way."_

After almost two hours of walking, depending on Dummy to guide him and to carry half his weight whenever Tony felt like giving up and collapsing to the floor, he wasn't certain whether anyone was coming for him. He wasn't sure he cared.

"Are you sure she's gone?" Tony finally asked, refusing to take another step before he knew for sure. They had to be close to the other end of the tunnel by now, which meant he would lose his connection to J.A.R.V.I.S. because he had lost his earpiece somewhere in the middle of the fight.

_"Yes, sir,"_ the AI responded, sounding truly sorry. _"She was knocked unconscious during the first blast, and the second killed her instantly."_ Silence followed the statement, only soft whirs from the bots audible in between Tony's shaky breaths. _"It wasn't your fault, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. finally dared to say.

"Let's… not go there."

If his eyes hadn't felt like they had just been melted right out of his skull – which was entirely possible, and Tony didn't want to think about that – he would have cried.

He wanted to shout, but his lungs were too busy supplying his body with oxygen in order to keep him moving.

So, he sat down instead, hugging his knees, hearing Dummy move now and then next to him. He envisioned the bot's hesitant movements, the urge to touch him, to comfort him, and finally Tony gave in and reached out, finding the bot's body, holding onto it desperately. A sob escaped him, and in between the crushing guilt, disbelief and pain, he wished things had ended differently today – even if it had meant no one walking out of his home.

_"Sir, you should keep moving. You are almost out of the tunnel."_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice was filled with patience but no pity. The AI could strip any such emotions and focus on what was important.

"Next time I build a safety tunnel, remind me to make it shorter," Tony groused, not getting up just yet.

_"The length of the tunnel was calculated for the maximized safety of those using it to evacuate from the premises."_

Tony knew that – knew the math, because he had spent hours at it while debating how to make things better the next time he got attacked in his own home. None of it had mattered: Pepper had been gone in a blink of an eye, taken from him before he could even realize the danger they were in.

They had both believed they were safe.

Tony should have known better: he should have been able to protect her, to get her in the suit and off the premises.

She shouldn't have just died like that…

_"Sir, please,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. pleaded again, trying to prompt him into action.

Tony rested his head back against the smooth, cool wall behind him. The sudden tilt made him feel like acid was being poured down his nasal cavity and into his throat, and he wished that were true – that his insides would melt and leave nothing for anyone to find when they finally came looking for him.

Dummy shifted, the three claws curling around Tony's arm at the elbow, tugging at him; the bot would have had enough strength to drag him forward, away from the wall, and Tony let out an angry breath, striking out blindly. The bot let go.

For a few seconds Tony just breathed, hard, seething and trembling. Once the moment passed, he seemed to realize for the first time that the darkness was overwhelming, all-encompassing and impenetrable. There was nothing but the void, sucking him in, reminding him of outer space.

A panic attack was the last thing he needed, but then he heard the bots, both of them, coming closer and touching him, a physical thing in the darkness – something for him to grab onto and not let go, to keep him from drifting away and sinking in too deep.

The bots moved, eventually, and Tony moved with him: up to his feet, stumbling and swaying, a throbbing pain trapped inside his skull. A bite of acid still splashed around his eye-sockets. If Extremis was doing something about the damage, it wasn't working.

Tony denied the wave of fear the thought brought with it, telling himself not to think of it now.

He thought of Pepper instead; the last feel of her body against his, the comforting touch; a request to find a few mementos to take with them… All the things she had collected were still there, in the house. Scattered and broken after the explosion, left behind just like her body.

Tony stopped. The bots followed his lead too slowly and he let go of them, even though that left him with nothing but the floor beneath his feet. "We need to go back," he said. "We need to get her – get Pepper."

_"Sir, you need to keep moving forward."_

"I can't leave her!" he shouted, angry and afraid. Alone.

_"You have to. She wouldn't want you to go back there."_

He hated J.A.R.V.I.S.'s cold logic. He hated how he hadn't taken more time to teach the AI the concept of loss and love – or maybe he had, but J.A.R.V.I.S. knew better than to deploy them now.

Or maybe the AI was responding with all the cold reason and love the situation deserved, for there was no way Tony would actually find his way back, much less find her body in the ruins of the building. He could dig around until his hands bled, and it was entirely possible she was no longer there…

_"Once the Avengers arrive, I will request that they go look for her body."_

Tony supposed that had to be good enough.

Dummy moved over to him so that Tony could once more find the bot's body and allow it to lead him on. After a short while, he began to experience a cool breeze against his face, and although he heard nothing but their own movements for the time being, he knew they were getting close.

You led them out of the tunnel, chirping loudly.

_"Sir…"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. started, voice fading a little already. _"The bots will keep you safe until the Avengers arrive."_ It wasn't a goodbye, but it felt like one.

Tony's legs shook as he felt the terrain change from smooth floor to uneven earth. His steps shortened, dragging more, and he wished Dummy could somehow tell him if he was going to walk into a tree or a puddle.

You rolled closer after a bit, the sound different in the short grass Tony thought he was feeling beneath his feet. A dry stick snapped under the bot's wheel, and then a cool metal arm brushed against Tony's hand, making him jump a little before he felt out You's body and used it as additional guidance to keep himself from tripping over anything.

He stumbled an embarrassingly high number of times, no matter how slowly the bots went. A few times Tony attempted to resume a normal walking pace, hoping that would keep him from hesitating so much, but he ended up falling down, hitting his knee on a rock and almost getting run-over by Dummy.

Slow and steady it was, then.

The wind began to pick up, making it harder to hear what was happening around him. Every little sound threw him off, his mind trying to conjure its origin. In the open space, he could no longer hear his own breaths – a sound that had become almost like a comfort in the confined space of the tunnel. He hadn't thought he would miss the labored sound; at each noise around them he expected the aliens to come back, to attack, and there wasn't a single thing he could do to fend them off.

Perhaps it could have been counted as a mercy killing…

The aliens didn't come, though.

Tony thought he heard a few restless birds taking off, and the ground turned less grassy and solid: he heard trees in the wind and knew the bots were taking him into the woods, which wasn't a bad idea, seeing as trees would provide them with shelter and cover from possible enemies.

It also made Tony's blind steps more hesitant as roots tried to trap his feet and gave even the bots some trouble.

"We should stop," Tony suggested after a bit. "We're far enough. The others won't find us if we get lost in the woods."

The bots beeped and stopped. Either they believed him, or they didn't know what to do, either.

Tony crouched down, feeling around and finding himself a relatively comfortable place to sit. The bots settled near him, making sounds every now and then. The wind picked up for a while, and when it stilled, Tony could hear the ocean, far away. He imagined the faint itches on his hands and ankles were ants and other insects crawling up his skin, but the warm waves that passed through him suggested that Extremis was hard at working. How the heat wasn't centered in his head, he didn't know, and it filled him with a quiet despair he tried to suffocate before it got a chance to grow.

He tried to think of nothing, which never worked for him; 'nothing' came with a craving to drink, which was also impossible, giving the circumstances.

He felt like an animal, bound to a pole at the end of a short rope, circling the pole over and over again until he felt dizzy, never allowed to stray far from it – not allowed to burrow too deeply into why his eyes and head wouldn't stop burning with a pain that seemed almost dull after all this time, or to think of losing Pepper. A short leash ensured that his fears and regrets didn't take over and push him over the edge.

It had to be hours later when he heard the wind pick up more violently, shortly followed by the sound of familiar Quinjet engines. Not for a second did he mistake it for an enemy aircraft, and he was proud of himself for making that distinction.

The sound dragged on longer than he thought necessary. Weren't they going to land? Were they going to leave, assuming that the destroyed house meant he was dead?

Finally the engines slowed down and grew silent, signaling a safe landing.

He didn't hear the ramp being lowered, but there was some distance between him and the Quinjet, or so he thought, and he wasn't sure where exactly they had landed in relation to the house, the tunnel exit and Tony's current whereabouts.

"Tony!" Thor's voice bellowed, loud enough to scare several birds into flight. It startled Tony, too, even though he had half-expected the call.

Another voice snapped something, less distinct, and Thor didn't shout again. Fear filled Tony suddenly, imagining how he would be left here, alone. He didn't think it would happen, but once the thought entered his mind, it was hard to get rid of it. So, he scrambled to his feet, scraping his back against the tree he had been leaning against, then desperately sought out one of the bots for support when he almost tipped over and fell down.

Staying upright was hard. He wanted to call out to the others but couldn't, feeling small and fragile all of a sudden – and completely lost. While he had just recently been confident that he knew which way he had come, the struggle to get to his feet had drained him and he had suddenly lost all sense of direction.

Desperately, he tried to regain his bearings. The fact that he couldn't see with or without the strip of fabric tied over his eyes was messing with his brain in the worst possible way.

He swallowed, trembling, and took a step. Half his foot landed on solid ground, while the rest was unbalanced by something that could have been a rock. It threatened to twist his ankle, and although he had already walked this far, he suddenly felt surrounded by obstacles – all of which lay between him and his team.

"Tony!" Another call rang out. A gust of wind tried to rob it from his ears, amplifying the terrors in his mind.

"Here!" he finally called out, the sound weak even to his own ears, and he wished, again, that he could cry. It was perhaps better he could not, but he was past caring – past being brave and strong.

Dummy let out a sharp whistle, and Tony heard something coming towards him. He prayed it was one of the Avengers, but either way his fingers tightened around You's arm and he braced himself for a fight, because obviously flight wouldn't work very well in his current situation.

"Found him!" someone – _Clint, it had to be Clint_ – called loudly. Even with the wind and the rustle of leaves and twigs, Tony was convinced it was the archer. Still, his posture didn't relax, fearing something worse.

"I've got J.A.R.V.I.S. on the line," Bruce's voice chimed in, coming closer as he spoke.

"About time," Clint stated, closing in on Tony as well.

"The destruction of the house must have knocked out some of his servers," the scientist replied.

Tony supposed that was possible, although J.A.R.V.I.S. had still been functioning in the exit tunnel. The AI was capable of prioritizing, though.

"Where's Pepper?" Natasha's voice called out of the darkness, making Tony jump at the suddenness of it: he hadn't heard a third set of steps – not that he would have expected to, normally, but _normally_ he could at least see her approach.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. is requesting that you not ask that question right now," Bruce mused. The connections had to be failing if only he was talking to the AI, and Tony grew frustrated at not knowing what was happening.

"You okay, Stark?" Clint asked, moving closer still. "You, uh…"

Tony waited, but the archer didn't go on.

"Let me see," Bruce stated, too quickly for it to come totally out of the blue: if he was talking to J.A.R.V.I.S., he must have just been informed of the extent of Tony's injuries. "I'm just going to step over and take a look, okay?" he went on, and Tony wondered to whom Bruce was talking, him or the bots.

"Are the aliens gone?" Tony asked, just to be sure.

"Thor and Cap went to check on that," Natasha replied.

Tony nodded, then jumped as he felt fingers on his skin, cool as ice. He brought his hands up, to keep them from touching him, and the bots let out a series of sounds, clearly picking up on his distress.

"It's okay," Bruce said, voice tight but calm. "It's me. It's just me, touching your face. Can I remove the cloth from your eyes?"

Tony stilled, breathing hard. "Yeah," he finally agreed, forcing his hands to move down and let Bruce reach behind his head to undo the knot. "Your fingers are fucking cold," he complained.

"That's because you're burning up," Bruce replied. He started to tug off the fabric and it caught a little at the corners of Tony's eyes. Bruce stilled, or at least stopped tugging. "Clint, give me some extra light here," he ordered.

While it shouldn't have surprised him, Tony didn't see the light. He saw nothing at all.

Bruce slowly pried the fabric loose from his skin, and Tony heard someone suck in a breath suddenly.

"Fucking hell," Clint hissed in obvious sympathy. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Hold it in and hold the light steady," Bruce snapped. Tony wondered if he was going to go green because this wasn't a good time for it. Tony slowly reached out and tried to locate Bruce's arm with his hand in order to give him a reassuring pat. He landed on the man's chest instead, which was a little awkward, but one of Bruce's hands covered his almost instantly, squeezing hard. "It's going to be okay, Tony," he promised. "Extremis is working, I can see it is."

"Yeah?" Tony asked, voice small again, like someone was squeezing his throat. He couldn't feel it, not really – just the lingering burn of the acid.

No verbal answer came at first, but it was followed by a weird breath on Bruce's part. "Yes," he said, resolutely. Tony guessed he must have just given him a reassuring look, maybe a nod – only to realize Tony couldn't see it.

"What did they do to you?" Natasha asked. She sounded odd, like it wasn't really her.

"Poured something into my eyes," Tony replied. It didn't bother him or put him in a bad place. That, strangely, hadn't been the worst of it; the continuous darkness was what was getting to him, and the helplessness that came with it. "They killed Pepper," he added, in case J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn't told them that yet. "She… We didn't…" He swallowed, feeling faint. "I couldn't save her," Tony admitted, and it was like they had just lost the entire war. He didn't care about that right now. If he couldn't save Pepper, how did they expect him to save the whole goddamn world?

Natasha murmured something, her words unintelligible as if she had turned away from him and was doing it on purpose.

"They're looking for her," Bruce translated, most likely meaning Thor and Steve – and let go of Tony's hand and turned slightly away from him, prompting Tony to remove his hand from Bruce's person.

Tony nodded in agreement to Bruce's statement, thankful as he stood there, then heard something open – a bag – and something like plastic being torn.

"I'm going to cover your eyes again," Bruce warned just before he did, and this time Tony was prepared for the touch. It wasn't soothing, but he let it happen.

"Let's move," Clint suggested after Bruce had fastened the new blindfold in place.

"We should get him to medical as quickly as possible," Bruce decided.

No one disagreed, even when Bruce had suggested he could see Extremis was trying to repair Tony's injury. Tony tried to force himself to not read too much into it; at this point, it would do him no good to speculate. He had kept his fears on a short leash until now, and he could keep doing that a bit longer.

"Let's go," Bruce said before his voice dropped, implying hesitation. "How do you want to do this?" he asked, clearly directing his words at Tony.

"What?" Tony asked. "Walking?" he guessed. "One foot in front of the other seems to work." The joke was weak, devoid of energy.

"Do you need someone to guide you?" Clint asked, voice crisp.

"You'd better guide yourself back to the Quinjet and get it prepped for take-off," Tony snapped back at him, feeling like he was finally getting some of the acid out of his system by flaring his temper. "I got this far," he added. "I'll be fine."

No one replied, but he heard at least two people taking off. He suspected it was Clint and Natasha, but he had no way of knowing it, and since he hadn't heard Natasha arrive, it was possible the second pair of footfalls was Bruce's.

He felt alone, all of a sudden; left behind and abandoned. It was nothing less than what he deserved, but it filled him with uncertainty. "Dummy, You," he called out, and instantly heard the rustle of their approach. They hadn't gone far, and both brushed against his hands, to make it easier for him to locate their arms and grip them for support. Of course, no path in any forest was wide enough for that, so You moved up ahead after Tony had barely taken two steps, selecting the route while Dummy kept guiding Tony along.

Tony's ears picked up the words of Clint talking to someone else: "Are you sure he doesn't need any help?"

"Let him do it his way," Natasha replied.

"He's slowing us down," Clint retorted.

"Prep the Quinjet," Bruce ordered, sharper than was necessary – also letting Tony know that he hadn't left his side with the others. The sudden appearance of his voice alarmed him somewhat, but Tony tried not to show it, focusing on staying upright.

If he had stumbled on his way into the forest, it seemed You had selected an even more difficult path this time. It was also possible Tony's focus was off, or that he was getting tired of the shuffle-collide-lift-shuffle routine, doing a lot more tripping than was necessary.

"Tony…" Bruce started after a bit, keeping up with him – or rather, lingering, because he could have walked circles around Tony at the pace he was going.

"I'm fine," Tony told him.

"You're not, and as well as you're doing on your own, it's not necessary."

"What are you suggesting?" Tony asked. "Want to carry me?"

"No, but I think Steve's debating it."

Tony stopped, swaying on the spot. Dummy kept rolling for a few inches before stopping and rolling back to his side, letting out a questioning beep. "Steve?" Tony asked, uncertain whether he had heard right.

"You're injured," a familiar voice joined their discussion, from somewhere ahead of him. "Badly," Steve added, as if the situation called for it.

Tony felt like telling him not to sneak up on a blind person, as he had just done, but his heart wasn't in the accusation. "I'm healing as we speak. Ask Bruce," he motioned in the general direction of where Bruce possibly was, according to his hearing, then realized his pointing might have been totally off regardless of that. "Wherever he is," he muttered.

"Doesn't mean you have to stumble around in the dark," Steve dismissed flatly.

"I can't see, so what difference does it make to me that it's dark outside?!" Tony snapped – yelled, probably, because he scared a few more birds into flight from the trees above. Why they kept coming back in between an alien attack, explosions and Thor bellowing into the night, he didn't know.

Steve didn't answer. Tony hoped he'd left, gone back to the Quinjet to sulk, but then he could _smell_ him, the uniform and an aftershave Tony had picked out for him last Christmas. "I'm sorry," Steve apologized. He had to know it was a better tactical approach not to argue with Tony right now, especially when Tony was right – which he usually was; no point arguing otherwise.

"Did you find her?" Tony asked, wanting to change the subject. Of course, the jump from _I can't see_ to _I failed to protect her_ wasn't exactly ideal.

"Yes," Steve replied, not needing to explain whom he meant. "Thor wrapped her in his cape, took her to the Quinjet. We'll… take her home," he finished, hesitating a little, as if wondering where Pepper would want to be buried.

Tony nodded, the motion hard-wired into him even when he couldn't see if there was someone watching him do it, and his legs felt weak, suddenly. "Okay. I'll just… I think I need a break," he said and sagged to the forest floor. Dummy let out a beep, then suddenly moved away. "Hey!" Tony called after the bot. "I just need a break, not a…"

A hand pressed down on his shoulder, suddenly. He knew it was Steve – had to be Steve, because the touch was firm and certain in a way Bruce's would have been hesitant, and they were the only other two around. "I'm sorry," Steve murmured, then maneuvered his arm under Tony's armpits and his other arm beneath Tony's legs, lifting him up before Tony could so much as shift and realize he was actually being picked up.

"We didn't agree to this," Tony argued, trying to get down, but he still felt weak and his body was relaxing into Steve's hold despite his best efforts to protest.

"I'll take full responsibility," Steve replied, and if it was meant as a joke, no one laughed. Tony felt him walk, navigating them past trees so that not a single branch touched Tony on the way out into the open. He smelled fuel once they neared the Quinjet, and a new fear bloomed in his chest.

His hand tightened on Steve's shoulder – or, well, he aimed for his shoulder but ended up squeezing him way closer to his neck. "We have to take the bots with us," Tony said quickly, straining to hear if they were rolling in the grass near him.

"You is already boarding the Quinjet," Bruce informed him from somewhere to his right. "Apparently he likes driving up and down the ramp." The fact that Bruce said 'he' made Tony's chest clench in gratitude. "Dummy is beside us; I think he's giving Cap the evil eye, just in case it looks like he's going to drop you."

"I won't," Steve promised.

Dummy let out a sound that could only be described as skeptical.

"He's a national hero; he won't drop an injured person," Tony told his bot.

Steve chuckled, the sound hollow, and for the first time Tony took a moment to notice that the hold the super soldier had on his body was desperate rather than overly cautious. Not because he was going to drop him, probably, but…

Tony didn't know why, but the way that Steve breathed out when Tony laid his head against his shoulder, dead-tired all of a sudden, had hidden messages written all over it. Problem was, Tony couldn't see – or read – them right now, and all he could do was wait this out and perhaps bring it up later.

Not that he was sure he wanted to.

_to be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: Vision - Darkness

**Chapter 3: Vision / Darkness**

* * *

**Day 103 of the Alien-Human War**

Seeing and comprehending were not the same thing, as Tony had come to realize over the last fifteen minutes. The visual cues that were transmitted into his brain to mimic eyesight were nothing like what he was used to. The colors, dimensions and angles were a little off, forcing him to reach out with his hands to measure how far the nearest object was – and when he was truly within touching distance of it.

The images kept alternating, and Tony wondered if he had some control over it. Probably. For the time being the layers were out of control, moving back and forth, the room shaping and re-shaping around him in between infrared layers; the simple frames were almost easier on his eyes in comparison even though they lacked details the infrared provided.

The thought was ironic at best: his eyes had nothing to do with this anymore, although his brain believed he had been given back his ability to see. The implants bypassed the damaged parts of his visual system, transmitting his whereabouts directly to his visual cortex. It was a crude first version, for sure, yet its success was undeniable.

Tony slowly made his way to a wall, learning how to connect the physical feel of concrete with the new visual he had of the wall. He followed it to a door, then pressed his back against the surface and looked at the room, trying to grow used to the fact that he wasn't blinking or moving his eyes – or if he was, those had nothing to do with the way he saw everything. There was no clear 'line of sight' anymore: he could see everything, like looking at a flat picture. His brain was having difficulty responding to the full 360-degree view, and he supposed he should tell J.A.R.V.I.S. to narrow it down and mimic the usual field of vision provided by human eyes – perhaps even match movement with a turn of his head or eye movement.

For now it was enough that he could observe the room, feeling less unbalanced and light-headed, the pressure and burn inside his skull easing a little.

A loud bang coming from somewhere in the building reminded him that he wasn't alone and that he was in danger, even though the battle seemed to be far away. Things like that could change fast, and he tried to picture in his head how long it would take J.A.R.V.I.S. to bring over Mark 50 – and whether the AI and the suit had run into some kind of trouble on the way. While Tony himself might have gotten caught in the battle, he knew J.A.R.V.I.S.'s priorities were different: the AI would try to secure Tony first and foremost, even if it meant risking other people or leaving them to fend for themselves. Only an express command from Tony would force the AI to put someone else first, and even on those occasions it was clear the conflict between his programming and Tony's order gave J.A.R.V.I.S. some trouble.

Finally Tony heard heavy footsteps, hard against the floor of the hallway beyond the door. The pace was brisk and even, almost inhumanly so, and Tony stepped away from the door. The handle was pressed down with almost too much force a moment later, the door swinging open, and Tony gasped at the sight of his armor.

It looked awful and glorious at the same time, with rivers of colors completely unlike how he remembered them, his depth-perception going crazy because the suit had been designed, among many things, to block scanning equipment – now including the implants.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said through the earpiece, _"are you ready?"_

"Ready for what?" Tony frowned.

_"Whatever comes next."_ Clearly J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't have an answer ready, which wasn't like the AI. Perhaps he had hoped that once Tony's sight was restored, Tony would step up and take the lead in their lives once more.

Tony took a steadying breath, knowing this wasn't the hardest part, but at the same time he had so many hopes and fears regarding the next step, because it had defined him for such a long time… "Open it up," he ordered the AI, who proceeded to open the armor's front.

The arc reactor shone incredibly brightly, moving to the side as the armor contracted, leaving an opening the size of Tony's body. His vision flickered, adjusting to the new changes. Tony gave the armor one last look then turned and backed into it, scraping his arm only a little on the edge, his body remembering how to fit inside the snug space.

Almost instantly, the armor began to close around him. The faint pressure was familiar, not unpleasant, although the way the armor squeezed the light helmet already around Tony's skull made him tense. Also, his world turned dark once more, and Tony inhaled sharply, fearing something had just malfunctioned or been broken.

_"Preparing to activate HUD-implant connection, sir,"_ the AI notified him.

Still encompassed in the surprising darkness – the darkness he had grown used to, but which in the last twenty minutes he thought he'd finally conquered – Tony wasn't sure he understood what was happening.

Something like a weak electric shock traveled across his scalp, prompting Tony to hold his breath while expecting more. Next he felt a buzz going through him as the armor came fully online and his vision came rushing back, sucking him in as he was once again unprepared for it.

He recognized the familiar setting of the Heads-Up Display, but instead of looking at it flickering and flowing in front of his face, it felt like his head had been immersed deep into it until he was floating within it, and instead of treating it like a screen filled with information, he could almost _feel_ it now, caught within the stream of data.

Once he grew a little more used to it, Tony realized the intricate, delicate change in the balance: before, the HUD had been a mere screen filled with necessary information his eyes tracked during his time in the suit. Now, with his eyes visionless, the implants wired directly to his brain could link up with the HUD, dropping the recent, outside-the-suit method of seeing out of the equation and replacing it with the armor's capabilities.

It was like getting a really cool set of virtual reality glasses, and once he no longer felt like he was drowning in it, Tony felt more at ease than he had within the strange mix of wire frames, infrared and sonar input.

_"All right, sir?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

"Getting there," Tony admitted, wanting to be sure he was in control because he didn't want to go stumbling around in the armor. He took a tentative step, flexed his arm, then tested the thrusters, although not long enough to actually bang his head on the ceiling. Everything was operational and Tony felt more in control of the suit than he ever had before. It was, most likely, just an illusion after his long captivity in blindness, but he was going to seize the bull by the horns and run with it. "Give me the layout of the building and its surroundings," Tony ordered his AI. "Show me the location of the other Avengers, the rest of our troops, and the enemy."

J.A.R.V.I.S. did as he was told, in silent obedience that to Tony felt almost like elation: they had both waited for this moment and now that it was here, the AI was more eager to get to work than ever, even when it shouldn't have made a difference to J.A.R.V.I.S. at all.

The HUD lit up with a wire-frame image of the building, strategic points as well as the military and S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel, civilians and the Avengers. Outside sat an alien Troop Transfer ship, which spelled trouble.

As he moved out of the room, Tony took note of the major fight areas as well as where people were being evacuated out of the battle's path; there was no way the building would stand for much longer, and those who were not fighting should be relocated at once. Transport vehicles were leaving the premises, and J.A.R.V.I.S. offered an eagle's eye view – possibly from a satellite – showing Tony that those who were still left waiting were in a danger of being run over by the advancing alien force.

He spied Thor's unique energy signal, locating the Hulk soon after as well, but from this distance he couldn't pinpoint the other Avengers. Tony didn't open the comm just yet, wanting to get his bearings first. "Do the others know you were coming to get me?" he asked the AI.

_"Dr. Banner indicated, before his rather sudden transformation when the fourth floor was blown wide open, that I should make sure you were safe. I took the liberty of remotely waking you up."_ Which meant J.A.R.V.I.S. had accessed the IV drip in some fashion. It wasn't important and Tony didn't waste his time thinking about it.

"Where are the bots?" he asked.

_"Awaiting evacuation. They seem to be, however, considered low-priority."_

Tony gritted his teeth. "Tell them to stay safe and out of harm's way."

_"Yes, sir."_

Tony debated taking the stairs, but knowing how awkward walking in a suit was even on the best of days, he craned his neck instead, scanned the floors above him – then lifted his hands and fired the repulsors before quickly stepping out of the way as the ceiling caved in. Once most of it was done falling, Tony stepped up again, gazed at the hole he had created in two floors above him and took notice of the general floor plan. He had navigated in worse conditions, but his hesitation wasn't about that: he felt like he had a handle on the HUD controls, but that could change in a heartbeat, especially if he engaged in battle. Also, he was more than certain that none of the other Avengers would agree to him joining the battle in the first place, but it wasn't as if he had ever asked for their permission.

Knowing it wasn't going to get better or easier by waiting, Tony started the thrusters and shot up through the two holes that barely fit the armor's form, then blasted through the third floor that had been weakened. Tony aligned his body for a sharp turn, flight coming naturally to him even after the long break, but his aim was off, as well as his measurements of the floor's layout, and he flew head-first into a pillar. Even at low velocity, he took down most of the pillar as he rolled to the floor, collapsing chunks of the ceiling.

"Fuck," he muttered. Colliding into things mid-flight was never a pleasant feeling.

_"May I suggest, sir, that I take the wheel until we are outdoors?"_ It was a carefully phrased offer, in hopes of not setting Tony off.

Normally Tony would have snapped at J.A.R.V.I.S. and blasted his way out through several more walls, just to make a point that he didn't need a back-seat driver, but the last few months had shown him a bit of humility and taught him how to let others help him.

"Take the helm," Tony agreed, and saw J.A.R.V.I.S. instantly paint a route on the HUD. Tony helped by climbing to his feet, then positioned his body for take-off once he saw the thrusters being engaged.

It was smooth, to say the least. J.A.R.V.I.S. selected a path that was easy to navigate, and by the time they got to a 90-degree turn just before the home stretch, Tony was almost excited to see whether they could pull it off when J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't slow down for the turn: Tony braced himself, then just before the turn he saw the thrusters being disengaged and felt the flaps deploy. He threw his lower body forward, just in time for J.A.R.V.I.S. to re-engage the thrusters, boosting them smoothly into another hallway before hitting the finish line at an already cracked window.

As the glass shattered and Iron Man shot up to the open sky, Tony saw J.A.R.V.I.S. hand the reins back to him. It was subtle, going much smoother than it used to whenever Tony needed the AI to navigate for a moment, and Tony made a wide arc over the building just to grow accustomed to flying. People always thought it was easy, but Tony could attest that it took a lot of practice to get it right.

The HUD showed him some new information, moving out of the building and to the battlefield outside. They were heavily outnumbered by the aliens, which meant that everyone but the heavy hitters was stuck in strategic hiding places, returning fire whenever possible. Tony knew the difference between a fight and buying time, and this was the latter: until every human being had been evacuated from the premises, the Avengers were going to hold the enemy at bay. After that…

"Open the comm," Tony ordered, and J.A.R.V.I.S. did.

_"I'm running out of ammo,"_ Clint's voice filled his ears.

_"Stop wasting it,"_ Steve ordered, voice terse and tight, implying he was in a tight spot, hurt, or possibly both.

Everyone who had ever fought with Clint Barton knew he didn't waste ammo, ever. That was why Clint didn't respond, taking what he could from Steve's response and running with it.

Tony looked around, finding the Hulk beating the crap out of several alien armors, but they were crowding him and it was easy to tell the fight was getting too long even for the angriest member of their team. The Hulk could go on for hours still, no doubt about it, but he would get harder to control as he took more hits and his anger accumulated.

Looking to the side, Tony saw the glorious flash of energy as lightning crashed down from the sky. With the limited vision – or, the lack of human vision, to be precise – he didn't see the red cape flapping in the air or a glimpse of the golden hair, yet he knew at once where Thor was.

_"Sir, War Machine is approaching you from behind."_

It was a kind reminder for Tony to not get spooked. He saw Rhodey's suit signature on the HUD, almost felt the vibrations as he sped over and slowed down to Tony's flight speed.

_"What the hell, Tony?!"_

"How do you know it's me in the suit?" Tony asked back.

_"J.A.R.V.I.S. told me."_

"Tattletale…"

_"It seemed prudent that Colonel Rhodes know that you are about to engage the enemy,"_ the AI defended his actions.

"I haven't engaged anyone yet," Tony argued.

_"But you're planning to – right?"_ Rhodey sounded strangely hopeful. Tony sort of hoped he could see his face, like he used to, on a small screen on the HUD. He got a bunch of other data instead, from body heat to pulse and respiratory rate.

"Kind of," Tony admitted. "You see that big ass alien ship parked over there?"

_"Kind of hard to miss,"_ Rhodey replied.

"Want to join me in a valiant effort to gut it from the inside out?"

_"It won't help us win the fight."_

"No, but it will piss off the aliens and make it harder for them to regroup later."

Rhodey let out a sound that was probably an affirmation. _"I'm a bit low on ammo."_

"I'm fully loaded. Just… watch my six," he suggested.

_"Always."_

Tony nodded to himself.

_"Tony?"_ Rhodey spoke up as Tony began to arc towards the Category 4 ship.

"Yeah?"

_"You know you're flying with your eyes covered by… something?"_

Tony frowned, which was kind of lost beneath the light helmet on his head. "J.A.R.V.I.S., disconnect my in-suite cameras, please."

_"I didn't mean it like that,"_ Rhodey said instantly.

"I know, but it… Didn't we talk about this?" Tony asked, feeling frustrated all of a sudden.

_"That the implants are supposed to bypass your eyes? Yeah, I got that part,"_ Rhodey admitted. _"I just didn't expect it to be so… literal."_

Tony chuckled. "Just remember my threat from my teenage years: I'm watching you with my brain."

Rhodey barked out an uncontrolled laugh, because that was actually a threat Tony had made against some jocks that had taken a few too many hits to the head. They had seemed sufficiently uneasy and hadn't tried to intimidate Tony for the next few weeks. _"Man, I missed you,"_ Rhodey confessed.

"Have you been gone?" Tony frowned.

_"No; you have,"_ Rhodey stated. _"I know it's been a shitty last few months, for everyone. You haven't been 'you' for a good reason, but that's… I'm just glad you're back in the suit, gearing up for a fight, is all."_

"I don't think I'm 'me' even now," Tony murmured and flew a bit lower, knowing that Rhodey would follow him, low on ammo or not.

_"Mr. Odinson is approaching,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. told him suddenly, and Tony turned his head although that wasn't at all necessary, tracking the Asgardian's flight path – which was, indeed, closing up on him.

"Iron Man!" Thor bellowed over the wind.

"Wanna tag along as we dive into the belly of the beast, Thunderclap?" Tony asked although he was uncertain whether Thor had a communicator on him or not.

Thor grinned, whether he heard or not, and aimed to follow him and Rhodey towards the ship.

_"Tony?"_ Steve's voice finally chimed in although Tony was fairly certain everyone had heard his and Rhodey's discussion.

"About time you took notice of my presence, oh noble leader," Tony joked.

_"Cut the crap,"_ Steve ordered, words unnaturally harsh. _"What are you doing?"_

"Preparing to wreak havoc," Tony summed up.

_"Are you sure you're ready?"_

That was the question, wasn't it? Tony wasn't sure he was ready, but he had come this far and it seemed Rhodey and Thor were preparing to follow him on his first real attack since he got blinded two months ago, so he wasn't backing out now.

_"He's in the suit, Cap,"_ Natasha joined the conversation. _"Let him play his part."_ Which was a subtle hint that as long as Tony was in a suit – which could be controlled by J.A.R.V.I.S. and not just him – he would be okay. Tony kind of resented that but knew it was in his own best interest not to argue at this point.

_"Once you're done, maybe you can come over and give me a hand,"_ Steve finally suggested. It was an odd thing for him to say, and Tony immediately shifted his attention to find his location.

It wasn't good, once he found him: Steve was completely pinned down by the enemy, and while his shield seemed to catch most of the enemy fire, it wouldn't be long before he had to move – although he had nowhere to go if he didn't want to enter a shooting gallery.

"Hold on," Tony murmured, reaching out his left arm, preparing missiles. "Take cover, then find a new vantage point," he ordered and released the projectiles. They arched down, past several other clusters of fighting, hitting their intended target dead on: the aliens crowding Steve were blown back, and after sheltering himself from the shower of rubble, Steve sprang up and away, joining a group of soldiers that had a pretty good position against the enemy.

_"Thanks,"_ Steve said in the comm, barely out of breath after his sprint to safety.

Tony hummed and then aimed for the alien ship.

_"If any of us helped him, he wouldn't just be saying 'thanks' but something about 'wasted ammo',"_ Clint muttered.

"Can it, soldier," Steve replied.

Tony ignored them for the time being, focusing on the hull readings on the HUD. He remembered from experience that firing at a Category 4 ship from the outside was a waste of time. No one had actually gotten inside to take the fight there, either, but Tony had never been one to turn down a challenge.

_"It is bound to be a tight fit,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. told him.

"Take over fine controls," Tony ordered as he arched closer still, finding an opening from which a few alien armors were moving out to join the battle. Either they didn't realize Tony and his entourage were actually attempting to get in, or the aliens weren't concerned about the consequences of such an intrusion; none of the alien soldiers moved to prevent their approach, and Tony prepared himself for anything as he flew in, the armor vibrating as J.A.R.V.I.S. proceeded to seize control from him and prevent them from hitting the nearest wall.

It was dark inside. The HUD, to which his visual cortex was currently connected, showed him a myriad of corridors leading away from the wide space they had just entered, at least five floors towering above them. There was machinery inside hundreds of pods in the corridors that Tony surmised must be used to assemble the battle armor around the alien bodies.

"Let's light it up, boys," Tony signaled to Rhodey and Thor as he floated mid-air; the two had followed him in, as predicted, and had stopped on either side of him. "I'll go up a few levels, start a fire there, then make my way out. You're free to join me, Rhodes," he added, knowing his friend would argue to come with him since he was supposed to be watching Tony's back. "Thor," he motioned at the Asgardian. "Bring in the thunder and take out their armory," he said, pointing at the nearest pods.

Thor grinned. "Gladly, Iron Man," he nodded and begun striding in the pointed direction. Mjolnir was starting to gather static around it at an alarming rate.

"Ready?" Tony asked Rhodey. Not for the first time he hated not seeing the man's expression, but the physiological cues had to be enough, and the readings from the War Machine armor were coming to him loud and clear: Rhodey was exhausted but still able to do battle, and while his armor was slowly running out of ammo, he had plenty left to assist Tony. His breaths were slower and almost measured, like he was telling himself to be calm, and Tony wondered whether he was playing it cool for Tony's benefit or his own. "Don't stress it," Tony ordered. "We'll be fine."

_"Did I say something?"_ Rhodey challenged and took off from the ship's floor. _"We're wasting time,"_ he added, and Tony shot up after him, feeling J.A.R.V.I.S. nudge him onto the correct path when War Machine went punching through a wall, leaving a gaping opening behind.

They encountered a few aliens on their smash-and-advance path up towards the top of the ship. None of the aliens were armored and were much easier to destroy. Tony was still unsure whether or not the aliens considered this a serious attack – or if they had just abandoned all hope, because they had barely gone up two levels before the ship's hull began to carry an electric current and a steady ring of explosions started beneath them, following them up as Rhodey led the way with the determination of a bulldozer.

"I think this is good enough," Tony stated on level four; the ship's structures were creaking, as if ready to tear themselves apart. Thor was really letting loose where they had left him, probably enjoying this chance to get back at their enemy, and that seemed to include trying to light up the ship like one huge Christmas decoration: electronics were blowing up on the walls, spitting sparks all over the place, and Tony feared there would be nothing left for him to blow up soon.

Rhodey stopped, surveyed the area, then waited for Tony's lead.

"Weapons hot," Tony ordered.

_"Any desired target, sir?"_ his AI asked.

"Let's not get picky: fire at everything."

As they let loose, both of them, Tony was fairly certain he heard Rhodey let out a yell of excitement.

Tony almost joined him, feeling a sudden weight fall from his chest. He was back in the suit, fighting the war next to his best friend, and while everything hadn't gone back to normal… this bit was very familiar – even the part where the ship began to bloat around them, ready to blow.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. warned him before the AI shut down the weapons and angled for the quickest exit route. Tony had the presence of mind to grab onto War Machine's shoulder and yank him along as they were both propelled outside, by the armor's thrusters and the explosion that followed in their wake.

Tony may have let out a hoot of excitement as the wave of pressure pushed them further away, but the sounds of the ship being destroyed effectively drowned it out.

* * *

**Day 45 of the Alien-Human War**

The Avengers had brought Tony to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility outside Oklahoma City – a base that seemed to be shared by several branches of the military to handle the current situation. It was nothing new since the war began, although Tony, for once, wasn't there to discuss a new assault on the enemy, an evacuation strategy or ways to preserve human life.

When they had arrived, Tony had mostly been out of it; he had been vaguely aware of familiar voices and Steve's firm grip as the super soldier still carried him, and it had been those things that allowed him to drift off and lower his defenses.

He was in a hospital ward when he came to again. People moved around him, but none of them poked or prodded at him. Perhaps they had been briefed that it wasn't the best approach with him. His mind drifted for a while, getting lost so easily in the darkness that persisted. Eventually it began to bug him, though, because as worn out as he felt, lying in bed wasn't how Tony Stark dealt with things; he had things to do, people to see and talk to, not to mention a war to win.

Tony felt it when he opened his eyes, but save for the sensation of his eyelids moving, nothing changed. To make sure his head wasn't still wrapped up in gauze or something, he reached up with his hands, but found nothing at all on his face. Tentatively, he felt out the skin around his eyes. Everything felt smooth, soft – recently regenerated. Everything in his body seemed to be working as usual, Extremis back to a calm hum.

Still, he couldn't see.

"How are you feeling?" a voice asked; softly, slowly, as if afraid of spooking him.

Tony jumped a little but figured that he should have recognized Bruce's smell a while ago, as well as the odor of that awful tea he kept making for himself whenever he had the chance. If the other man didn't like it so much, Tony would have gone out of his way long ago to destroy the last batches of it left on Earth.

"I'm not sure," Tony finally replied, because he didn't. "Did someone give me meds? You should have told them not to, because I think they caused a slight delay in –"

"Tony," Bruce interrupted his rambling. A hand pressed against Tony's forearm, warm and gentle. Too gentle, like Tony was some fragile thing about to fall apart. "There were no meds," Bruce told him. "I told them to let Extremis handle it, not to interfere. It… didn't work."

Tony swallowed. "What do you mean, '_it didn't work_'?" He knew, of course. He knew without Bruce telling him, but for the sake of his sanity, he wasn't going to admit it to himself or anyone else just yet.

"Your eyes are damaged," the other man told him, calmly – too calm for it to be nothing but a cover firmly placed over a boiling pot. "They analyzed some of the acid; we couldn't identify most of the components in it, and most of our lab equipment couldn't handle it. Frankly, I think it was supposed to melt your brain inside your skull – and probably your skull as well…"

Tony forced himself to nod. He blinked, slowly, trying to force his body to realize he hadn't completely healed yet.

Extremis didn't even stir.

"Extremis saved your life," Bruce told him, fingers tightening around Tony's arm as if he feared Tony was going to bolt. "For some reason, though, it couldn't repair your eyes. They…"

"How do they look?" Tony asked, which was stupid and shallow. He lifted his free hand, to feel for himself. Minor desensitization, but he could feel his eyeballs, his eyelids, even eyelashes.

"They looked scarred," Bruce explained and grabbed Tony's other arm as well.

Tony heard his chair shift a little and then felt the weight of the other man's body next to his hip, probably seated on the edge of the bed. His fingers held firmly onto Tony's forearms, guiding his hands to rest in his lap. Tony instinctively tried to look at him, to stare him down, but he had no idea whether he could do even that.

"The extraocular muscles seem to have mostly healed, allowing natural eye movement," Bruce went on, and Tony allowed his voice to soothe him while he stored the information away, trying to imagine it. "You're trying to look at me now," the other man noted, and Tony offered him – or his general direction – a dry smile. "Your irises have retained their usual shade, although the pupils appear to be leaking due to colobomas that are present in both eyes."

That had to look spectacularly creepy, Tony decided. "You mentioned scars," he reminded Bruce.

A pause followed his words, then a chuckle – a sad, defeated sound. Tony wondered if Bruce had done something – or if Tony had, not that he was aware of it. "I'm sorry," Bruce mused. "I nodded, although I should remember that you can't… see it," he finished, voice dropping.

"Do I look like I'm freaking out?" Tony asked.

"Not particularly."

"Good. Stop tiptoeing around the subject and tell me about the scars."

Another pause – perhaps another nod that Tony couldn't detect – and Bruce went on: "The scars mostly cover the sclera, not reaching the irises or the pupils more than in a few places. They look like… scars," the scientist summed up unsatisfactorily. "Small, thin, uneven lines, spread unevenly, a little lighter in shade than the usual white of the sclera." He paused again. "Satisfied?"

"For now," Tony pursed his lips. "Any other lingering effects?"

"I think your tear ducts are busted."

Tony snorted. "That's good to know," he tried rolling his eyes, which hurt a little, as if the muscles were too tight for some reason.

"You know it's going to start sinking in soon, right?" Bruce asked him.

"Will it?" Tony challenged. "Most likely all I need to do is figure out what went wrong, tinker with Extremis and…" He realized it wouldn't be easy, due to the fact he couldn't see a thing. Well, J.A.R.V.I.S. could help him. All he needed was a good lab, equipment, some time… maybe _a little more time_ than usual, since he didn't know his surroundings…

Then again, what else was he going to do? Don his suit and go kick some alien butt, to get revenge for Pepper? None of that was going to bring her back. He had missed his chance to protect her, and that loss was so permanently etched in his memory that he was fucking glad he couldn't cry about it.

Tony bit his lip. "Damn it," he swore. "It's your fault," he blamed Bruce for his awareness of the fact that he could not shed a tear even if he wanted to.

"We'll figure this out," Bruce promised. "One way or another."

Tony allowed himself a pathetic little laugh. "There's only one way I want to see this ending."

"I know," Bruce replied.

"It includes seeing," Tony added.

"I know," the other man said again, ever so patiently.

"Stop being so fucking calm about it!" Tony finally snapped, wrenching his hands away from Bruce's grip although he didn't know where to put them to keep them away from the other man.

"What would you like me to do?" Bruce snapped right back at him, voice rising. Tony felt the bed dip, although he almost missed it while trying to pull back. "I trusted Extremis to fix your eyes, but here we are, and I can tell you've already thought of the other side of the coin."

"Which is?" Tony asked for the hell of it, pulling up his legs after pressing his back against the wall at the head of the bed. His hands felt out the edges of the mattress, to get an idea of how much room he had to move around. Not much.

"That the damage is too much for Extremis to deal with," Bruce stated. Tony had no idea how far he had moved from the bed, or even if there was someone else in the room.

"That's not even close to what I've been thinking about," Tony protested – although now that Bruce had said it, he couldn't just dismiss the thought. "Extremis can re-grow limbs, and that was before I perfected the version that went into my body."

"So why can't you see?"

That was the big question.

Tony fought the fear that came with it, which could only lead to a huge downward spiral. The fact that he didn't know anything about his whereabouts other than the bed was starting to get to him. Was this even a private room? Not that Tony cared if someone was listening in on them… unless he was being totally honest, in which case he _did_ care, _a lot_.

Iron Man was a symbol to the people, even to those who claimed he wasn't. Tony had learned, long ago, that showing weakness didn't inspire hope in others. That was why, right now, it was best to keep his insecurities under wraps.

He settled down a little, trying to center himself. If he focused very hard, he could hear Bruce's breaths, deep in a way that suggested he was trying to calm himself down. Further away, he could hear other noises: voices, footsteps, items rolling back and forth across a smooth surface like the floor. All those other sounds were muted, which made Tony decide they were alone in a small room, a closed door between them and the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry," Bruce said finally. "I shouldn't have…"

"I needed it, I think," Tony admitted. "To have someone freak out, even if just a little."

"Not so little," the other man confessed and moved closer again. "We were all worried. For the first few hours, the doctors said you were going to die."

"But?"

"We knew better."

Tony nodded. Bruce must have believed, so strongly, that Extremis would take care of business. Well, Tony had had the same belief, but with that hope at least temporarily extinguished…

The darkness was starting to get to him again, Tony realized. He tried to think of something else, but there were so few good things to think about these days. Instead of thinking, he reached out, feeling the bed as far down as he could without changing his position, but he couldn't find Bruce. He lifted his hand, searching the air, feeling stupid, but finally the other man stepped up, right within the grasp of Tony's searching fingers, and Tony clutched onto the clothing when he felt it, not particularly caring which body part he was holding onto.

Bruce's hand settled on his own, not urging Tony to release his hold but merely holding onto him in return.

"You know," Tony mused out loud, allowing the darkness to turn just a shade uglier, just for a moment. "I think that if things don't work out, like, at all, and I'll never see anything ever again…" Bruce's fingers tightened almost painfully around his hand. "The last thing I saw was her," Tony pressed on, forcing himself to relive those final moments before the world went dark for him. "The last thing I saw was Pepper, and I think I'm okay with that."

Bruce's grip trembled, just a bit, and in a surprisingly quick movement he sat down next to Tony, drew him into an embrace, and proceeded to cry against Tony's shoulder, holding him close with a very similar desperation as what Tony had felt, briefly, when he couldn't find Bruce.

Numbly, Tony held onto him, blinking at the darkness before he decided it was a waste of effort and simply closed his eyes, listening to Bruce's unsteady breaths and drawing strength from the other man's despair.

_to be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4: Serenity - Grief

**Chapter 4: Serenity / Grief**

* * *

**Day 104 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony was positively vibrating in the aftermath of the battle. However, when several hours had passed and the adrenaline rush had transformed into regular twitches and prolonged episodes of shivering, there began to be cause for concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Rhodey asked him. He was standing in front of Tony, who was seated on top of a sturdy table. All around them people were moving hastily, hauling gear and guiding the last of the people towards the remaining transports. The rest of the battle had been hard-fought and could be barely counted as a win, but they were alive and managing a fairly organized retreat while the aliens had taken off for the time being.

Tony cocked his head. He was out of the armor but still wearing the thin helmet. His mind had taken its sweet time to adjust from the HUD-view back to helmet mode, but he was starting to visually comprehend the things that happened around him. Regardless of that, the twitching and shivering bothered him somewhat – not to mention a steady burn increasing in his head once again.

"I'm fine," Tony shrugged.

"Actually, you're not," Bruce's voice chimed in and Tony turned his head instinctively although his wider-than-usual vision had already tracked his approach. "J.A.R.V.I.S. just handed me a new batch of calculations. You need to take the helmet off immediately."

"Why?" Tony asked and jumped to his feet, forcing Rhodey to retreat a couple steps. "You're not serious," he added, because they had all waited for this day for so fucking long it physically hurt him to think of it, and… "I won't go back to the darkness!" he snapped, in case it wasn't clear.

Bruce gave him a look. His body heat rose briefly, then lowered again. "The helmet is placing extra stress on your brain," the scientist started, showing him something – a tablet. Tony squinted at the screen – an automatic reaction he had almost gotten rid of when it hadn't done him any good for the last few hours, but he could see again even if it wasn't with his own eyes…

It took the vision implants a moment to adjust to seeing what the screen was showing him. His noted an image of his brain, probably live-feed, and beside it some diagrams of recent activity. They were alarmingly high.

The sound that escaped him wasn't a whine or a sob but cut pretty close. "Fuck," he finally decided and closed his eyes beneath the helmet.

"Prolonged usage of the current version of the implants will lead to an overload," Bruce supplied unnecessarily – or maybe he was explaining it to Rhodey, who was taking a look at the tablet's screen as well.

"That doesn't sound good," Rhodey mused and laid a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Take it off. It's not worth it, at this point."

Tony nodded and reached up, slowly unlocking the helmet from around his head. He felt the disconnection instantly and darkness swallowed him up without a warning. Of course he had expected it, but it was still a shocking change after the last few hours.

"Let me take it," Bruce offered, and Tony let go of the helmet when he felt someone tugging on it. He was reluctant to let it go, fearing the others wouldn't let him use it again, knowing the risks. However, he had been doing just fine while in the fight, so with regulated periods of usage, it should be okay. All he needed to do was run some tests with J.A.R.V.I.S., maybe look into making some improvements…

"Hey," Rhodey murmured, nudging him lightly. "This was a big step forward, right?"

"Yeah," Tony said, then grinned because as brief as it had felt like and as hard as it had been to comprehend the implants' feed, he was so happy words could barely describe it.

"Let's get cleaned up," Rhodey suggested, placing his hand next to Tony's as a hint. "We're moving out soon, and who knows when's the next time we get to enjoy running water."

"Did Bruce leave?" Tony asked, sliding his hand along Rhodey's forearm and to his elbow, allowing the other man to take the lead as they started walking. Most people had made a habit of announcing their entrance to whatever room Tony was occupying, and telling him when they were leaving, just to let him know who was around.

"Yeah," Rhodey replied, his voice suggesting he was amused. "He's a bit disoriented after the fight."

"He gets that way."

"I'm sure he's going to take good care of your helmet."

"He'd better," Tony threatened lightly. His legs felt a bit shaky as they walked, but Rhodey moved slowly instead of his usual brisk pace, making it easy for Tony to follow him. It was a vast improvement over their first tries at Rhodey guiding him, and Tony appreciated the effort his oldest friend had put into accommodating Tony's needs.

His fingers unconsciously tightened on Rhodey's arm, gratitude washing over him as he once again pondered the things his team and friends had done for him…

Rhodey slowed down even more, then stopped. "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. I just thought…"

Tony relaxed his hold on his arm a little. "I'm just… I guess being able to see, however strangely, reminds me that I wouldn't have made it this far without you guys."

"You would have done just fine," Rhodey objected and resumed walking, guiding them around something that smelled of metal and oil before they got to a more silent hallway.

Tony knew he would waste his breath arguing Rhodey's statement. However, they both knew that had it not been for Rhodey and the Avengers, Tony would have been long gone, lost in his own head, surrounded by strangers in some facility overcrowded with people who couldn't fend for themselves anymore.

Today, Tony had proven to himself and everyone else that he still had the will to fight; and with the major obstacle removed – or at least reduced to something manageable – he was back to fight on the front line. If the implants kept working and didn't fry his brain, it would all work out.

"Stairs, going down," Rhodey said in a low voice – which suggested other people were nearby. Tony slowed down then stopped as Rhodey did, found the wall with his free hand and then located the first stair with his foot, taking them one at a time. Rhodey kept one step ahead of him, not hesitating even when a group of people moved past them at a brisk pace. Tony felt like calling out to them, to tell them not to sweat it now that the battle was over, but he refrained from doing that.

"Hi," a husky female tone greeted them – Natasha, voice half-gone after the fight.

"We'll get cleaned up, then we're ready to go," Rhodey stated.

"Good." She didn't ask why Tony was no longer wearing the helmet, which meant she probably knew, guessed, or took it in stride. "I'll see you at the cars."

"All the Quinjets took off?" Tony asked. He had been busy during the fight, getting accustomed to his new HUD-to-brain overview of the situation, and hadn't had time to actually observe the evacuation proceedings.

"Most of the aircraft left at the first sign of trouble," she replied. "Three Quinjets got shot down by enemy fire."

Tony cringed; they had too few versatile aircraft as it was. In between fighting, retreating and their dwindling resources, there had been barely any time for manufacturing anything new that wasn't directly tied to their survival and thusly a priority.

"You know you bought us a win today, right?" Natasha asked. It was her way of being polite; of commending Tony on his decision to join the battle instead of getting in the armor and flying to safety.

"Hardly," Tony scoffed – and meant it. "I can't see why Cap didn't just order a direct assault on the ship in the first place."

"Because at the time, it wasn't smart," she replied.

"But it was smart when I showed up?"

"You didn't give him a choice and it paid off, despite the risk of getting three of us killed." He could hear a shadow of strange pride in her words. "We've played it cautious for way too long, trying to save ourselves for the final fight and not get killed before it. The change of pace was something we needed."

Tony felt a bit bad, suddenly. He had been on the sidelines for the last few months, ever since he got blinded, and while he knew how hard the others had battled, it wasn't the same when he wasn't there with them. Steve had been thinking of the long-term effect of their every move; they couldn't win the war if they ended up dead or badly injured. Tony getting hurt had been a reminder to all of them that they could be taken out way too easily. So far the war didn't seem to be ending, even after all this time, and Tony needed to remember that.

"We did good today," Rhodey told him, clearly agreeing with Natasha. "We got crazy, kicked some alien ass, and sent them running."

Well, not exactly, but they were still here while the aliens had withdrawn, and that was good enough for today.

"They want us to move out as soon as possible," Natasha mused after a brief silence. "Get cleaned up. God knows when we'll have a proper shower again."

It seemed all of them were looking forward to very simple things. Tony smiled and tugged on Rhodey's hand, indicating that they should get going.

If he was lucky, he could get J.A.R.V.I.S. working on a tablet or a laptop while they were on the road and could start solving the problems related to the implants. He wasn't planning on ending up brain-dead just because he wanted to see, so working out the kinks was on top of his list of priorities right now.

For the time being, though, the brief moments of non-darkness were more than enough, even though they might be better spent on fighting rather than working. All of that required extensive tests and finding out the proper balance in between the periods of usage and rest. It would keep Tony's mind sufficiently busy for weeks to come and keep him from sinking into darker, murkier waters of depression that had threatened his existence ever since his world was plunged into darkness and uncertainty.

* * *

**Day 47 of the Alien-Human War**

Going blind was probably most people's worst nightmare – if they took a moment to think about it.

Tony had never given into such pointless fears – even when Pepper and Rhodey told him the '_stuff he was drinking was going to blind him_'. That hadn't happened – or he had just dodged a bullet; either way, when actual blindness took over his life, it was a paralyzing event.

First, he tried doing things the way he had always done them, but impudence, stubbornness and self-sufficiency got him only so far – which wasn't far at all.

He kept running into things and falling over things that weren't big enough to run into; he refused to walk around with his hands and feet searching for the next obstacle, trying instead to navigate by sheer force of will, but it got him little more than wounds and a bruised ego. Extremis was quick enough to deal with the worst fixes he got himself into, but minor bruising healed slowly, showing other people just how badly he was doing, despite his claims that he had '_things under control, so fuck off!_'.

It was clearer than ever that Pepper was gone. Had she still been alive and with Tony… well, his life would have been a lot easier, for one. She would have fussed over him, told him he was being an ass, and she would have known where to put a bandage to cover a bleeding scrape from a sharp edge. Pepper would have _found_ the bandage…

The bots helped him to the best of their ability, and seeing as they had been built to assist him, among other things, Tony grudgingly accepted them as his guide dogs. Still, they weren't particularly well trained for each other when it came to Tony's new condition, and there were more kinks than smooth interaction.

It wasn't a surprise that it took less than two days for the others to gang up on him.

"This isn't coping," Bruce told him sharply, sounding like he was going to turn big and green at any second. Tony debated whether the Hulk would be easier to reason with. "This is you blocking out what's actually happened."

"It's pretty hard to block out anything when it's staring me in the face – and I can't even see it," Tony pointed out, equally unhappy that they had to have this conversation.

"They're going to lay Pepper to rest in the next few days, with a few dozen of the other latest casualties of the war," Rhodey cut in before anyone else could. He had flown in soon after their arrival in Oklahoma City, but for the most part he acted like he had no idea how to talk to Tony anymore, or how to be around him.

"We're still in Oklahoma," Tony said, taken aback by the change of subject.

"Yeah," Rhodey agreed.

"They can't bury her in Oklahoma."

"They will, because her body's here."

"The fuck they will!" Tony jumped up from his seat at a table and bumped his shoulder into someone – probably Thor, because it felt almost like hitting a wall. He lifted a hand to push him away, but had the limb caught instead, and Tony realized his original estimation had been wrong: it was Steve, not Thor. Well, a wall was a wall…

"Tony, calm down," their leader told him, voice tight and trying to feign patience.

"No," Tony spat. "She deserves to be buried somewhere that matters – somewhere she belongs. L.A., if we can't do better than that." He stopped for a bit, breathing out the worst of his anger. "She deserves to go home."

"She does," Rhodey agreed with him. "So, we'll make you a deal."

Tony hesitated for a few seconds. "I'm listening," he finally offered, although still cautious.

"We'll come with you and make sure she gets buried in a place she would have loved," Natasha worded out what had to be the first part of the deal.

"In exchange for what?" Tony asked. He knew the next part would include something he didn't like.

Bruce started: "If we do this for you –"

"– you'll let us help you," Rhodey finished.

"Help me?" Tony was getting truly suspicious now, but the fact remained that Pepper deserved to be properly buried and he would go to some serious lengths to make sure that happened. It was the last thing he could do for her.

"You're blind," Clint chimed in, stating the obvious in a painful and strict manner. "You can't lead yourself around – not the way you have been."

"I'm getting… acclimatized to the changes," Tony hedged most of the sting the archer's words carried and managed to wriggle his hand free of Steve's hold – to demonstrate his independence.

"Whatever," Clint snorted.

"What Clint's trying to say is, we've watched you run into walls for a few days now, and we're done standing by," Steve took the lead and no one tried to interrupt him. He also reclaimed his hold on Tony's hand, gentler than before. "People are… talking when you're not present."

"Talking about what?" Tony asked, suspicious and afraid of the answer. He wasn't afraid of gossip, but there wasn't a whole lot of that going on within these walls.

"They want to take you away," Bruce said, sounding like a dog protecting his favorite bone. "To stick you in some recovery ward, far away from the war."

It wasn't as if the news surprised Tony. The doctors and nurses who had dared to come into his vicinity had subtly hinted it might be best for him while he got used to the new life he had to lead from now on. Tony felt insulted and hurt by those suggestions – as if his usefulness had suddenly come to an end. He knew the facts, though – knew it would have been for the best, considering the big picture…

"They think you're a liability," Rhodey added. "That you're not of use to anyone before you get back to work again."

_If_ Tony was ever going to be able to work; so far it had been difficult, even with just him, the bots and J.A.R.V.I.S.

"They're wrong," Steve stated before Tony could say anything at all. "The aliens made a precise strike against you. That's never happened before, no matter who was where. They've passed up chances to kill world leaders gathered in the same building many times, and have shown no interest in our planning and strategizing. Not until they attacked you."

"We told those idiots that," Rhodey agreed, anger sharpening his words. "They refused to see the facts we were presenting them. They implied that we were biased; that we wanted to keep you around because we felt sorry for you and your loss. That we wanted to make you feel important and useful."

"Do you?" Tony asked, because the answer to that question was more important to him than a lot of things he was facing up against. If his team bailed out on him…

"Yes and no," Steve replied. "You're hurt, obviously, and there's no certainty when, if ever, you'll be able to see again. But," he added sharply when Tony opened his mouth to protest, "you are an _Avenger_; you're one of us. And you're an asset. Whatever the aliens wanted to kill you for, we'll be able to use it against them."

"Well…" Tony hesitated, knowing this could be a deal-breaker. "I'm not sure why they attacked me. I wasn't making any headway when they attacked."

Silence followed his words, but not for too long.

"You'll figure it out," Steve decided. His fingers tightened fractionally around Tony's wrist, as if in encouragement. "Until then, you're staying with us, we're staying with you, and you'll let us help you."

"And you'll help me take Pepper home," Tony reminded them of their end of the bargain.

"Yes," Steve replied. He was the most honorable of them all, and if he said so, it would be so, and Tony wouldn't need to doubt his word or the depth of his commitment.

It was his own commitment Tony doubted, yet he already knew that he wouldn't make it through this alone. Such simple things as eating and going to the bathroom gave him so much grief he didn't even want to think of something more complex. He knew he had to re-learn all those things, but he also knew that part of being blind and independent was about learning his surroundings, becoming familiar with them and then finding routines to follow. With the apocalypse upon them, one blind man's struggle was insignificant – an unnecessary complication – and he wasn't sure why his team was willing to put up with that.

Still, if Tony had to accept help from someone…

Not so long ago, he had still been of the opinion that he couldn't show anything but his best and bravest behavior to these men and this woman. They were all strong and Tony needed to be at least as tough to be one of them. That meant hiding all his weaknesses at all cost. Lately, though, when they had suffered from the war and its effect, it had become clear that putting up a brave front wasn't necessary. Little by little they had all shown their true colors, and if Tony had to choose someone to be weak around… it would be these people and no one else.

"Okay," he finally replied, knowing they were waiting for his decision although it had been all but made from the beginning.

"We should leave soon," Natasha said almost immediately. "Get him cleaned up; Clint and I will prep a plane and get Pepper."

"What do you mean, get me cleaned up?" Tony asked her, or the general direction where he hoped she was.

"You're wearing your shirt inside-out and backwards, your socks are mismatched… and when was the last time you washed your face?" Rhodey listed.

Tony tried not to flush and call this off immediately.

"Come on," Bruce's voice drifted closer and a hand touched his shoulder; Steve's hand fell away, as if Bruce had been given him a cue. "You'll feel better once you've showered and brushed your hair."

"Couldn't find a comb," Tony murmured, following Bruce's lead clumsily, but for the first time he managed to make his way to the bathroom without running into anything.

Once inside the bathroom, Bruce helped him undress. "Hold on," he told Tony after a bit, and the next time he spoke, it was louder and from a different direction – probably in the doorway: "Can one of you find Tony some clean clothes?"

"Sure," Rhodey's voice replied.

Tony heard a door close afterwards, then Bruce was moving closer. "Can you shower on your own if I show you where everything is?" he asked.

"Probably," Tony shrugged and turned in the direction where he remembered the shower stall stood. He remembered to lift his foot over the threshold for once, instead of stubbing his toes, and felt his way to the controls to turn on the water. The tiled floor made his balance precarious – something he had learned the hard way by now – and perhaps that was what spurred Bruce's next question.

"Do you mind if I get in with you?" the man asked. "I could use a shower before we leave."

The obvious thing would have been to ask for Bruce to wait until he was done, but Tony had a feeling Bruce wouldn't have asked if he expected that outcome, and Tony shrugged one shoulder, proceeding to shuffle to a small shelve on the shower wall. There were two bottles there, one probably body wash, the other meant for hair, but there was no way of knowing which was which. That was why he had aborted his earlier attempt to shower – that, and the fact that he had stubbed his toe and fallen on the wet floor.

Behind him, the stall's door closed and he felt Bruce's skin brush against his. "Turn on the water," Bruce told him, and Tony did because that was simple. He left it for the other man to choose the right bottle, then jumped a bit as Bruce's hand slid into his wet hair, clearly with the intent to wash it for him.

"I can do that," Tony said quickly. "Just give me the right bottle."

"Okay," Bruce retreated hastily. He handed the bottle to Tony – not even opening the lid – and left him to it while he probably washed his own hair. After that it was easy to select the body wash, and Tony was grateful that he had long since stopped being self-conscious about his body because showering in a small space with another man was definitely a new experience. Not necessarily a bad one, though, when Bruce learned his pace and allowed Tony to do his own washing.

"So, whose idea was this?" Tony asked as they rinsed.

"What?"

"Having the team babysit me. Getting in a shower with me to make sure I would wash behind my ears."

Bruce chuckled. "We're not babysitting you, and it was a fairly mutual choice: Steve and Rhodey had a small shouting match with a room full of men who outrank them, and after that… we all knew what we would have to do."

Tony imagined Rhodey actually going up against a commanding officer – something he never would have done before. How he wished he had been there to see it… or even hear it, as it were. "And the showering thing?"

"I wanted to make sure you would get cleaned up, plus I wasn't lying when I said I needed one myself."

"Never thought you were so comfortable being around people in confined spaces," Tony teased.

"I've gotten used to being half-naked around strangers over the years," Bruce pointed out. "Besides… If you agreed to it, I figured that the least I could do was to get over my own anxiety issues and be there in case you needed me."

"To select the right bottle," Tony reminded him.

"To select the right bottle," Bruce repeated. "I think we're done," he said then.

Tony was a little sad to see their strangely comfortable shower session coming to an end, but he turned off the water and reached out for the stall door. He moved to step out – only to kick his foot against the threshold again. "Fuck!" he snapped, moving carefully over the obstacle now that he had been reminded of its existence again. "I can't believe my brain can't remember such a simple thing. Every fucking time…"

Bruce didn't offer him comfort, which Tony was thankful for: there was nothing the other man could do about it. He handed Tony a towel, though, then opened the bathroom door and closed it a few seconds later, letting in a gust of cooler air. "Rhodey found you some clothes," he explained.

"I trust you to tell me if they are in some way offensive," Tony joked.

"Rhodey doesn't seem like a man who gets up to tasteless pranks."

"Oh, you wouldn't know it now, but he used to get involved in a lot of shit –"

"That was you, not me!" Rhodey yelled through the door. "Don't change the story."

"Stop eavesdropping!" Tony yelled back at him, then accepted a pair of underwear from Bruce and managed to get them on after a bit of struggling. Bruce corrected him when he almost put the shirt on backwards, then found a comb somewhere and offered to comb Tony's hair. While Tony could have done it himself, he knew it might have ended up looking like a mess, so he trusted Bruce to do it.

Once they were clothed and done, Bruce led the way to the door, allowing Tony to take his time to find the way there on his own. It didn't feel like being left behind, exactly, but Tony wasn't sure he liked it, although it allowed him to be independent.

"All set?" Rhodey asked. It was quiet in the room, save for him.

"Where are the bots?" Tony asked, frowning.

_"Captain Rogers and Mr. Odinson are currently taking the bots to the plane Agents Barton and Romanoff are getting ready,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. supplied through the pathetic sound system Tony had managed to plug the AI into after several hours of struggling. _"Captain Rogers noted that it may be for the best if the Avengers leave the premises in secrecy, and thus they are not taking the straight path to the hangars, which led them to take a few extra flights of stairs."_

"With the bots?" Tony cringed.

_"Between the two of them, the bots are in the process of being carried up the stairs. Worry not, sir: they are in good hands."_

"They had better be," Tony frowned. He was starting to get the big picture, which included the Avengers doing something unsanctioned. It wasn't like Steve to act like this. "We're not coming back here, are we?" he mused.

"Most likely not," Rhodey agreed. "We thought it best to be prepared. If there's anything you need, tell me and I'll grab it. Otherwise we're heading out to the hangar to join the others."

"Just grab the tablet I have hooked up to the sound system," Tony motioned at the wall. "J.A.R.V.I.S., let's turn wireless functions back on."

_"Yes, sir."_

"Bruce, can you find me an earpiece?" Tony asked because he had no idea if he had one lying around.

"I'll get you one once we're on the plane," Bruce promised. His elbow nudged Tony's arm. "Shall we?"

Tony hesitantly grabbed onto Bruce's arm, unsure how this was going to work. The time he had spent awake, he had struggled on his own, trying to find his balance in the darkness. Tony didn't know the first thing about guiding a blind person – or about being the blind person being guided. However, Bruce moved forward, and all Tony could do was follow him or let go and return to walking into walls. So, following Bruce it was.

Rhodey walked behind them, and Tony's senses became filled with noises he tried to analyze: people passing them by, doors opening and closing, fragments of discussion, things on wheels moving by, smells and drafts. It was either focus on those or focus on walking, and eventually he had to block out most of the outside world as he tried to follow Bruce and not stumble or freeze in doubt.

"You're doing great," Rhodey told him at one point.

"Shut up," Tony shot back under his breath, and the other man got the point.

They finally got to the hangar. Tony hadn't walked this much since his accident and he was ready to collapse. Bruce guided him up a ramp and the familiar sounds of the bots greeted him. "Sit down," Bruce said and guided him down onto a bench that was in no way a proper airplane chair. They were either in a Quinjet or some kind of cargo plane.

"We're almost ready to go," Natasha's voice drifted by them, her steps barely audible as she rushed by.

Tony tried to follow the sounds, to tell who was where. One of the bots rolled closer to him and laid its clawed hand on his shoulder, the touch light. Tony reached up to touch it, getting a small beep in return.

"Let's buckle up," Steve announced. "We're almost ready to go."

"Do we have everything we need?" Bruce asked, his voice coming from close by before Tony felt something brushing against his waist: a belt.

"Almost," Rhodey replied. "Okay, there it is," he went on almost instantly, and Tony could hear a familiar clang of metal coming up the ramp: the War Machine armor must have just arrived. "Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S.," Rhodey said.

_"You are most welcome, Colonel Rhodes. However, I believe the armor's exit caused some alarm and it may be for the best if we take off as soon as possible."_

"Noted," Steve replied. "Close the ramp. Sit down and secure… well, whatever needs securing," he finished, probably looking at the armor and the bots.

"Brakes on, boys," Tony told the bots. He felt someone – Bruce – sit down next to him, and heard the armor move. The ramp rose as Tony made sure the belt was properly fastened around his waist. Normally he wouldn't have cared so much, but right now he could use a safety net of sorts; something to hold on to.

Their take-off was without fanfare. The only voice he heard was J.A.R.V.I.S.'s, which possibly meant the AI was guiding them past flight control. They flew low before suddenly arching higher, and Tony's stomach lurched, then settled, and the robot hand that was still on his shoulder shifted minutely.

Tony closed his eyes and drifted for a bit. He had hardly been sleeping since he woke up to find himself still in the darkness after those horrible hours in Malibu, and he was more rest-deprived than Extremis could casually handle. Drifting must have turned into active napping because Tony started when he felt someone moving his body into a horizontal position.

"Sleep," Bruce's voice urged him.

Tony stiffened, trying to get his bearings, and eventually realized his seatbelt had been opened although he was still on the uncomfortable bench. Bruce was still beside him, and Tony finally allowed the man to guide him down, which had him laying his head on Bruce's thigh.

Something or someone moved beside him, and Tony felt something warm and light being draped over his form. A blanket. He didn't know who put it there, but he suspected it wasn't one of the bots because that he would have noticed…

Bruce's hand settled in his hair, suddenly, drawing slow, gentle circles on his scalp. Tony closed his eyes, trying to think back to when he had allowed someone to touch him so intimately. It had to have been Pepper, otherwise it had been years, probably all the way back to Tony's teenage years. Suffice to say, his one-night stands hadn't been into that kind of stuff, and Tony wouldn't have let them even if they had been; he could fuck and suck and kiss, just to get a list started, but to actually let someone sink their fingers in his hair and caress him? Tony hadn't needed such a gentle gesture before, but he sure felt lucky to have it now, and was drifting back to sleep in seconds.

He didn't wake up until they had landed, which was saying something. The others were moving around when he came to; Bruce's thigh was no longer beneath his head, but something that felt like a folded blanket was stuck there instead.

Tony sat up slowly to find his balance, then pushed away the blanket on top of him and lowered his feet to the floor of the aircraft. From his left he heard an inquiring whistle and turned his head to follow it. He didn't hear much of anything, but he knew Dummy was close by. "Find me something to eat," he told the bot and heard it move away. A crash followed shortly – and a series of stomping footsteps running up the ramp.

"Hey!" Clint shouted. "Get off there!"

"He's getting me something to eat," Tony interjected, patiently waiting for the bot to complete his task.

"How about you ask one of us next time? It's a fucking mess. No, don't move, robot! You're going to crush that pack of… okay, now you did," Clint muttered and strode past Tony, closer to where the bot was. "Give me that!" he snapped, and the bot – Dummy, for sure – let out an angry sound. There was a sound of something tearing, like a wrapper, and then Tony had a second to smell something before someone grabbed his hand and shoved an item in it. "There," Clint told him.

Tony sat there, stiff, not at all appreciative of the manhandling. Dummy and You must have noticed that because they let out a series of sounds. One of them must have poked Clint, hard, because the archer let out a sharp cry.

"You interrupted Dummy's mission," Tony told Clint, side-stepping his actual issue. "Don't do that."

"You interrupt them all the time," Clint defended himself.

"That's because it's me. That's different. If I tell them to do something, let them do it."

The bots let out a joint beep, clearly liking his stand on this point.

Clint had either left or was taking a moment to think it over, so Tony carefully focused on the item in his hand. It was some kind of energy bar, most likely, already opened at the top. Tony could have done that himself, had Dummy just brought him the snack.

"I'm sorry," Clint suddenly spoke up. Tony barely contained a start at the sudden re-appearance of his voice. "I don't… I'm not qualified for this. I don't know what to do."

"Don't treat me like a cripple," Tony offered as a place to start. "Don't presume I can't do something just because I can't see it."

"Okay," Clint said slowly. "I just thought that if you were hungry, you would prefer eating now and not sometime next year."

"Some things take time," Tony replied bitingly, then felt the snack bar all over again, pushed the wrapper down and took a bite. It was spectacularly non-tasty, but it would do.

"I know you still want to do things your way," Clint said, "but it's hard to watch someone struggle – especially if you know them."

"If I don't do it now, I never will," Tony pointed out, although he hadn't really thought about it that way before now.

"This might not last forever, you know."

"Or it might."

"You really want to keep thinking that?" Clint challenged. "I hear positive thinking is a lot more useful to a person with problems."

Tony knew that, but right now he just wanted to eat his stupid snack bar and then get on with what they had come here to do. He hadn't forgotten the reason they had left the base in Oklahoma – and reminding himself of that killed his appetite. "Where are the others?" Tony asked.

"Outside, looking for transport," Clint replied. "We're about five miles outside a graveyard Natasha said Pepper would have liked." He was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry she had to go like that. I know you would prefer her to be around, even to see you like this."

There were two ways to respond to that: to take Clint's words or shove them back at him.

"See me like this?" Tony growled.

"You know what I mean," Clint hedged.

"I don't care if she would have seen me like this, or if I had died instead of her: I would give anything for her to be alive. _Anything_."

"I hear you," Clint replied and left, clearly done with the argument.

Tony sighed, pulled the wrapper back over the snack bar and then laid it aside – most likely to be forgotten there. "Dummy," he called and heard the bot move over. He reached out, and the bot touched his hand, offering support as Tony lifted himself up and tried to determine which way the ramp was. If his memory served him right, it was to the right, and he turned that way. "You, pick a path. I want to get out of here."

The other bot moved up ahead and Dummy slowly moved to follow, leaving Tony time to respond and follow. They were doing just fine until the ramp came up and Tony had to make a stupid stick-out-your-foot-and-feel-around movement to make sure he wasn't going to fall off the side or lose his balance. Dummy guided him down, though, and Tony could tell they were in a relatively open area. No trees although there was a lazy wind blowing; no sounds of traffic, either.

"Do not wander off, my friend," Thor's voice suddenly entered his limited world, and Tony tried to determine where the Asgardian was. Had he heard Tony and Clint's exchange?

"I just want to stretch my legs," Tony explained. "Maybe take a leak, too," he mused. Not knowing where they were, he had no idea where to go.

"Shall I walk with you?" Thor asked.

"I'm fine on my own," Tony replied in the general direction of his voice. "Besides, I've got my boys with me," he added and patted Dummy's arm.

"Well, I find this a fine day and could use a chance to stretch my legs as well," Thor decided in a very poorly concealed intent to follow him. Tony heard his footsteps, smelled the leather of his armor, then almost felt static on his skin as the Asgardian settled beside him. "Lead the way," Thor offered, which was actually surprising.

Tony took a step, and Dummy started moving again. Ahead of them, You was left to pick the path, and the hard ground suddenly turned into something softer, like gravel or a dirt path running between fields. Tony itched to ask where they were, but what did it matter if he knew? They would just have to go over it again when they moved to another location.

"How's Jane?" Tony asked, deciding that they needed to talk about something before he went insane with _not knowing_ so many things.

"The last I spoke with her, after the attack on you in Malibu, she was fine. She told me to give you her condolences, and add those of Lady Elizabeth Ross as well."

Tony nodded, not knowing whether Thor was looking. Jane and Betty, along with many top scientists of the world, were in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best protected hide-outs, trying to work out a way to defeat their enemies, and until that could be accomplished, come up with ways to keep the population of Earth alive. That's what Tony had been doing, that day. Analyzing data… he wondered if any of that was related to the alien attack, although he doubted it, because those projects had been too recent. If there was a reason for the attack, other than taking out one of the Avengers – who were being a pain in the invaders' asses – Tony didn't know what it was. Everything he had done since the war started may have been the cause for Pepper being dead and him being blind.

"I am certain they wish they could be here today, with us," Thor went on. "To help Lady Pepper on her final journey."

"If you believe in that stuff," Tony mused, but left it at that – as did Thor, surprisingly.

"It is good of you to bring her here, where she would wish to rest," the Asgardian said after a while had passed. They had turned to the right, choosing another path. For all Tony knew, they might have been walking in a very big circle.

"Couldn't have done it on my own," Tony confessed and tried to look at Thor – or at least fake it, and knowing about the visible damage done to his eyes, he wasn't sure whether trying to look at people was a good idea to begin with. Perhaps he should start wearing shades…

"We are your shield brothers, as you are ours," Thor said solemnly. "To honor your beloved's passing is the least we can do. It will unite us in your rage when we meet our enemies again."

Tony tried not to scoff; he wasn't meeting any enemies in the near future, he was sure of that.

"The others approach," Thor said suddenly. "They have found a vehicle, it seems."

"About time," Tony decided and felt Dummy turn and start pulling him back.

When they got back to the plane – at least that's what Tony guessed happened – people were moving around again. "We should hurry it up," Natasha spoke up, probably to Tony and Thor. "We don't have that much daylight left."

"Is that important?" Tony asked. For him, it didn't matter.

"I don't know, but better safe than sorry," she replied.

"The bots need to stay on the plane," Steve spoke up. "Rhodey's armor will also stay behind, and J.A.R.V.I.S. promised the bots will be safe."

"I wasn't worried," Tony claimed and let go of Dummy, taking a step away from the bot. "Get inside. Guard the plane."

The bots beeped and whistled and moved up the ramp. One of them must have run into something inside because there was a sharp _clang_ a few seconds later. The small grunt that came from Tony's right must have been Clint trying to suppress his response to that.

"Come on," Rhodey urged and took Tony's arm. "The pickup is a bit wobbly but it will do." He guided Tony around the car, tugging a bit too hard, but Tony didn't complain. When Rhodey indicated for him to lift his foot, Tony felt around, finding the pickup's door already open. It took him a few tries to locate the running board, and he could tell Rhodey was itching to direct his foot to it. The man didn't, however, and Tony patted his arm as thanks when he was finally seated inside and Rhodey let go of him.

"Alright," Bruce said from beside him, starting the engine. Tony heard sounds from behind – the other Avengers getting seated in the bed of the truck, most likely. "It's going to be bumpy."

"I was warned," Tony noted, feeling around for a seat belt.

"There are no seat belts," Bruce informed him a second later.

"Great," Tony mused and leaned harder against the seat. Not being able to see and anticipate the car's movements, he felt strangely unprepared for everything. "Why are you driving?" he asked.

"We talked about it and I had the most experience driving crappy cars," Bruce chuckled weakly. "I'm sure Clint would have gotten us to the cemetery in one piece, but he flew the plane so he deserves a break."

That may have been one reason why Clint was so on edge when Tony woke up.

The drive felt way longer than a couple miles. Tony's fingers squeezed the edges of his seat and it felt like Bruce was driving insanely fast and making turns at full throttle. The car was jumpy, clunky and sounded like it was going to break down a few times, but they got to their destination in one piece and that was enough.

It was Natasha who helped him out of the car, and her actions were much more suitable to the task than Rhodey's. Tony wondered if she had been trained in this stuff, or whether she just got inside his head better than the others.

Bruce joined them, offering his arm to Tony again, leading him along. Natasha stayed beside them, and no one talked.

They stayed on a path until they must have reached the site the others had selected. Tony wished he could see it, to approve of it, because this had been his part of the bargain.

"I know you can't tell," Rhodey's voice interrupted his thoughts, "but this is where she would have been buried if… you know, if you had still been together at the time, and still stayed in Malibu. This is your spot."

Now Tony wished he could see it, but it was perhaps better that he didn't. This was the location Pepper had chosen, on Tony's orders, because Tony didn't want to be buried in the family plot in New York City. It had been a small 'fuck you' to his father, although he hadn't thought about it for years – not even when he was dying, strangely enough. She had said it was beautiful, although Tony hadn't cared about that. He had trusted her judgment.

Tony heaved a deep breath, an earthy smell filling his nostrils, then nodded. "Did someone bring a shovel?" he asked.

"We found a couple from a shed nearby," Steve volunteered. "It's all ready."

They couldn't have been gone for that long, which led Tony to imagine Captain America digging a grave – which, not so subtly, led him to assume this wasn't the first time, seeing as Steve had been in a war. "Thank you," he said, because that was appropriate, then stopped because now they were here and he wasn't sure how to proceed. He turned his head towards Bruce, who was still at his side. "We got her a coffin, right?" he asked in a whisper.

"A nice one," Bruce told him, also in a low tone. "Come on," he said then, and moved forward, leaving Tony to follow. When they stopped again, Bruce moved his arm forward, and Tony took it as a hint to step up beside him. His foot bumped against something and he reached down, feeling a smooth wooden surface beneath his hand.

He couldn't cry, which some may have considered a blessing. Tony didn't. He wished he could let it out: all his regrets, his failures… His breaths got uneasy and Tony busied himself by feeling the surface of the coffin more thoroughly. No one talked or rushed him. It didn't feel awkward like in those horrible funerals where no one had anything to say about the deceased; they chose to remain silent out of respect to him, and he didn't ask for speeches. He didn't offer one, either.

"I love you," he finally said, stilling his hand on the coffin's cover, then stepped back. Everything else he could have said, Pepper had already known in her heart. She had probably known how he would feel now that she was gone, too.

He was going to miss her, so much.

Tony heard someone move and shift the coffin. Steve and Thor, probably, and maybe Rhodey, too. There were whispered words, like final farewells, and a light scraping sound as the coffin was lowered into the earth. Tony had a brief desire to jump in after it, but that would insult her memory: she had wanted him to fight, for once; to protect this world and to help them find the keys to victory.

He heard them shovel the dirt back in, smelled the freshly turned earth, and realized he had nothing to leave here: no flowers, no small memento to place on her grave. Did they even have a gravestone, or a wooden plank to put her name on?

"It looks fine," Rhodey said after a while, settling beside him, their shoulders brushing. "I wish we'd had more time, to get this done properly…"

"I'm not sure if I could handle proper," Tony stated.

Rhodey chuckled and fell silent, and Tony was fairly certain he was crying. "I don't know if anyone told you, but… One of the bots – You, I think – collected a bunch of flowers while you were on your walk. Thor just placed them on the grave. They look lovely." Rhodey was definitely crying now. Tony reached out and pulled him close.

Tony's own eyes burned, painfully so, and it felt like his tear ducts were exploding with pressure, but slowly the sensation passed and no tears leaked down his face. The air was getting cooler, the wind picking up, and he knew it was getting dark. Still, no one suggested they should leave, a silence hanging over them.

It was up to Tony, obviously.

There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn't let them out just yet. He hoped the others knew how grateful he was.

"Let's go," Tony finally said, quietly.

Rhodey sniffed and pulled his head from where it had been lying on Tony's shoulder for the last few minutes. As Tony slid his arm from its place around Rhodey, he let it linger on the arm closest to him, and Rhodey took the hint, slowly guiding them to turn around and then leading the way. Tony heard the others follow, still quiet, but he also thought he sensed something… Perhaps it was that anger Thor had talked about, all of them possessing a small part of it and when put together… it would be a force to be reckoned with.

_to be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5: Together - Apart

**Chapter 5: Together / Apart**

* * *

**Day 111 of the Alien-Human War**

In the week following the activation of the vision implants, the Avengers had relocated to a base in Detroit, Michigan, hadn't had any more alien encounters and were, for lack of a better term, regrouping.

For most people it meant recharging their batteries – so to speak – getting their gear checked and giving their injuries time to heal. For Tony it was a chance to find a proper lab space and start talking to J.A.R.V.I.S.

It was a fortunate thing Tony was a genius and thus possessed a better-than-average brain, because otherwise he would have gotten hopelessly frustrated with the data his AI was telling him about but which he couldn't see. For the time being they had agreed to let his brain rest when it came to the implants, save for various tests.

Bruce joined them in the lab on most days during their stay at the base. Tony always enjoyed their time together in any lab, and like always, Bruce was ready to immerse himself in megabytes of data, give Tony his opinions, venture past comfortable limits and make vague guesses at things that probably couldn't happen in their lifetime, but which would be awesome and very helpful if they did.

"I can't believe there isn't an outright problem I could poke at," Tony complained after they had stayed up for nearly fourteen hours straight. Bruce had finally lured him to lie down on a crappy excuse of a couch, with Bruce half beneath him like a human-sized pillow. Bruce's fingers, where they were laid out on Tony's stomach, drummed an uneven pattern.

"That's because the implants are, at this stage, close to perfect," Bruce replied, annoyingly certain of himself. "We didn't just do the surgery on a whim. We both went over the data, as did various other people, not to mention J.A.R.V.I.S."

"I like you better when you're busy freaking out about letting the beast out," Tony teased him.

"You always say that when I'm right about something you don't like," Bruce chuckled, breaths warm against Tony's ear. "We'll figure it out. All we need is a better lab, more number-crunching power, and a lot of good coffee."

"I thought you didn't drink coffee."

"With all the chances to exercise these days, I'm starting to find maybe coffee wasn't the problem in the first place," Bruce confessed. He was, of course, referring to their on-going battles against the alien invaders, and the frequent occasions the Hulk had joined the battle. They were long past the point when it was counter-productive to let the Hulk join the ranks of the Avengers; they needed the monster – just as Tony needed Bruce at times like this. Whenever Bruce was prone to forgetting how important he was, Tony liked reminding him of the place he had in his life, if not anyone else's. It was his opinion that mattered on most days, anyway.

Bruce shifted, his nose brushing at Tony's scalp. "We should go find something to eat."

"We should sleep."

"That, too. But food's important."

"I'm tired of war rations," Tony complained.

"I'll see if I can find us some actual food. Fruits or vegetables…"

It highlighted how horrible their lives had become that Tony felt ready to beam at the idea. He started sitting up, stomach growling a little at the prospect of food, then detected the faint sound of the electricity going off and turning back on a second later; the second of silence was unsettling yet natural, seeing as they had spent enough time in places that had long been cut off from any power grid.

"J.A.R.V.I.S.," he called out.

"We should go, now," Bruce said, speaking faster, and began untangling his legs from around Tony's hips.

"What's going on?" Tony asked, voice rising in alarm. He could tell something was up.

The distinct sound of Mark 50 activating reached his ears. _"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. announced through the speakers an instant later, _"we must evacuate at once. An enemy force is approaching the base."_

"Evacuate?" Tony frowned, struggling to his feet, reaching out to find either Bruce or one of the bots, seeing as the armor still seemed to be where he had told it to stay along the far wall of the lab.

_"Two Category 5: War Ships have been detected, followed by five Category 4: Troop Transfer ships."_

That was bad – and not just bad but infinitely worse than any day they had seen so far. Not once had Tony heard of more than one War Ship being present on any field of battle, no matter the size of the alien assault. "Do you think we pissed them off when we blew up that Category 4?" he asked out loud.

"Probably," Bruce agreed. "Or, they're moving up their timetable." Tony heard him moving around. "J.A.R.V.I.S., make sure Tony stays safe."

_"Of course, Doctor."_

"Where are you going?" Tony asked, alarmed. "Let's go together."

He heard Bruce pause his back-and-forth movements, no doubt getting any equipment together that they might want to salvage. "It's okay, Tony," Bruce said, fighting for his voice to stay even. "I'm not going to leave you."

"Okay," Tony replied, feeling small and insignificant. He knew he was holding Bruce back, because if there was a time to allow the Hulk to be the welcoming committee, this was it. "You should go," he decided. "J.A.R.V.I.S. and the bots will get me to safety." He tried getting his bearings, noticing once again that sudden spikes in stress levels made it hard to focus on his whereabouts, even when he had pretty much memorized every inch of this room during their stay.

He could sense Bruce's hesitation. "Here," the scientist finally said, pressing the lightweight helmet into Tony's hands. "Don't use it unless you have to."

Tony nodded, although it was hard to resist the allure of vision. Battles like this could drag out, though, and they were currently uncertain how long his brain could withstand the stress of the implants before it became dangerous for him. With Extremis, Tony was confident he could stretch the timeframe, but it wasn't a risk worth taking at this point.

He heard Bruce leave, just before alarms began sounding in the distance. A door fell shut between him and the rest of the world, and for a moment Tony stood there, lost despite his moment of bravery.

_"Sir?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, either to receive an order or to make sure Tony hadn't gotten lost in his thoughts.

"How's it look up there?" Tony asked. The lab was several floors underground, which meant he probably had to get moving so that he wouldn't get buried alive if the worst happened.

_"The attack appears imminent. Mr. Odinson is preparing for battle, and Dr. Banner has just met with Captain Rogers, receiving his orders to join Mr. Odinson."_

Tony nodded. "You know, after all this time, you could be on first-name basis with them all," he suggested.

_"That sounds highly unprofessional to me."_

"Right, because the things we've done lately are completely professional," Tony snorted.

_"With all due respect, if you are referring to your close bond with your teammates, I see nothing wrong with that. I am glad they are able to make you feel safe."_

Tony wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing at all. "Dummy, You," he called out instead. "Grab… whatever we need. Do we need something?"

_"I will have the bots collect the necessities. If you would carry a bag, sir,"_ the AI requested, and Tony heard the armor moving further away, then turn and walk all the way to him. Tony reached out blindly and Mark 50 moved so that his hand touched whatever was being offered to him – which in this case was a messenger bag.

It took a little effort for the bots to bring over things that Tony tried to fit in the bag alongside the helmet. Just in case Mark 50 was needed elsewhere, Tony didn't want to put the helmet inside the armor. It wasn't a norm that J.A.R.V.I.S. flew one of his suits to battle without Tony in it, but this battle was gearing up to be at a level of destruction that might warrant every able man to fight, and Tony wasn't going to get in the way of that.

"Okay, I think we're done," he decided and carefully made sure the straps of the bag had been fastened. He would hate to lose any of the items in the bag, which consisted of the helmet, a couple tablets, a few miniature hard drives and several of Bruce's notebooks that he had left behind. It had been good of the bots and J.A.R.V.I.S. to notice them, because while Bruce might have gotten over it, Tony knew he had a lot of useful data scribbled down on those pages – including some test results from the implants and theories for improvements.

Dummy rolled over to him, assuming his duty as Tony's guide. It might have been easier to get in the armor, but Tony had felt highly unpleasant the last time he was in the armor without the ability to see, and he wasn't about to repeat it unless he absolutely had to; the feeling of being pulled at unexpected times and in startling new directions had made him feel totally out of control, no matter how he rationalized it in his head afterwards. J.A.R.V.I.S. had been surprisingly understanding of Tony's reluctance, and it wasn't as if they had known how it would work until they tried it.

They left the lab together, You leading the group, Mark 50 bringing up the rear. The fight either hadn't started yet, or it was very far away, but Tony kept the pace brisk and asked them to lead him to the elevators, seeing as he couldn't get the bots to ground level on his own. Fortunately it was an industrial elevator, because otherwise they might have had a problem between the armor and the bots' combined weight.

Tony waited uneasily as the car moved up. The smell inside was of dirty metal and rust. You and Dummy kept up a steady concert of small sounds that either had no meaning or were meant for Tony's comfort as a type of elevator music. When the elevator came to a halt with a small jump, Tony feared the power had gone out again. However, he heard the door open, and Dummy started moving forward.

At ground level, it was much easier to hear that things weren't going their way: people ran past him in both directions, forcing the bots to halt. Tony turned his heard left and right, clutching the bag with his free hand although the strap was safely over his left shoulder.

_"This way, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. finally announced, briefly touching Tony's right arm, and they all turned to follow the armor. They stayed near the wall, moving in single-line formation save for Dummy who kept Tony between his own body and the wall – effectively keeping anyone from running into Tony.

Outside the few rooms he had almost learned to move around in during their stay, Tony eventually had to let go of the bag and trace his free hand along the wall, his left resting on Dummy's arm. With every step he tried convincing himself there was no obstacle waiting for him to trip over. If nothing else, J.A.R.V.I.S. would warn him.

The hallway seemed to go on forever before Dummy slowed down and Tony did as well. He heard the armor halting altogether and tried following its lead, but bumped into it anyway. "What now?" Tony asked.

_"I am… awaiting news,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, clearly focused on something. Tony gave the AI a moment, trying not to feel anxious. The crowd had almost magically vanished, only a few striding or running footsteps drifting past him. For a second he wondered if they were in an area that had been ordered to be evacuated, but J.A.R.V.I.S. wouldn't have taken him here if that were the case, so he breathed in and out, waiting for the AI to figure out their next move.

If only he could put on the helmet and see for himself…

_"We must move, now,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. finally said. Tony heard the servos complain and suddenly felt the armor's painfully tight grip on both his forearms, making him start and lean away from the touch. _"Sir, please,"_ the AI begged.

"What?" Tony asked. "Just pick a direction and I'll follow."

_"The fight is starting."_

"Then take us to shelter!" It shouldn't have been so hard for J.A.R.V.I.S. to comprehend that, which meant the AI was truly afraid for his wellbeing.

The armor let go of him and Dummy jerked forward. Tony hurried along, one hand on the robotic arm and the other following the wall, to have some semblance of control. He couldn't run, which they all should have known, and the fast pace started to make him feel uncomfortable after a little while because he had no idea what lay ahead of him, one or a dozen steps away.

They turned a corner and Tony lost touch with the wall – just before the hallway they had left behind imploded. The wall of air and debris that hit him from behind threw Tony forward by several feet. He was slammed down to the floor, fine shards of glass, metal and plaster digging into his skin like needles.

_"Sir."_

His AI's voice was barely audible over the rush in his ears.

_"Sir!"_

Tony struggled to his knees – only to be blown back down as another blast shook the entire building. The bots shrieked, loud enough to pierce the thick veil thrown over Tony's senses. He tasted dust, smelled smoke and felt an unyielding grip take him by his right arm, dragging him forward before forcing him up. Tony's hands slid across the familiar front of the armor, searching for purchase. He heard something collapsing and even more creaking sounds, like the entire building was coming down around them.

_"Sir, you must get inside the suit,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. urged him. _"The building is coming down on top of us."_

"No," Tony protested feebly. "The bots –"

_"You are more important than the bots."_

"I'm not leaving them behind!" Tony snapped. "Pick a direction."

J.A.R.V.I.S. let out a sound of hot desperation that he must have adopted from Tony over the years, but the armor relinquished its hold – only to drape an arm around Tony's waist. _"This way,"_ the AI said and led them forward and then sharply to the left. Tony wasn't walking so much as being dragged along, but he heard the bots following, struggling over some of the uneven terrain where the floor was either cracked or covered by debris. He knew it was insane, but they had all come this far and after losing Pepper he wasn't about to lose the bots, too.

They were suddenly outside.

Tony hadn't even noticed a doorway – if there had been one – and he sniffed the air. Something was burning but not in their immediate vicinity. The armor's arm loosened its death-grip on his waist and Tony slid out of the embrace, taking the armor's elbow instead. It wasn't as easy as following a human but J.A.R.V.I.S. had observed the Avengers long enough to be able to mimic their small cues.

The bots trailed behind them, tires crunching, a chorus of reassuring beeps and whistles following Tony's progress.

A brief whine crossed the air behind them, followed by a massive explosion that seemed to blow the air in all directions and shook the ground. Tony faltered, feeling the pressure from the blast pushing from behind. He didn't hear cries or shouts – not over the roar of a crumbling building.

_"Keep moving,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. urged.

Tony clutched at the armor, forcing his legs to keep moving, trying to ignore the sudden roar of weapons, human and alien, and the obvious destruction that followed them. The hard ground, most likely asphalt, kept heaving like a wave of water, reminding Tony of an earthquake. A chopper flew over their heads, the sound sudden even in the midst of all the other noises, yet it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

_"Down,"_ came a warning from the armor before Tony was wrenched down towards the ground, with a bruising force that felt like it might dislocate his shoulder. The armor's arms wrapped around him, pulling him further down and to the side, and the bots shrieked just before another whine and an explosion traveled through the air, uncomfortably close. Tony felt heat on his skin and pressed his head down, trying to protect himself although he had no idea what was happening and where the danger was coming from.

A hum filled the air, starting so low it seemed to rattle his bones. The armor rose abruptly, yanking Tony to his feet, and the hum intensified to an almost unbearable level.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said, dragging Tony's consciousness away from the hum and towards the familiar sound. _"A Category 5 ship is above us."_

By 'above us', Tony assumed the AI meant it literally. For once he was glad he couldn't see it, although the knowledge was enough to make him shake.

_"I must go,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. added. _"I must join the fight, to lead the ship away. Go with the bots. They will keep you safe."_

"No," Tony protested, heart jumping into his throat. "You can't just leave me." First J.A.R.V.I.S. had wanted him to crawl into the armor and abandon the bots, and now the AI was going to just ditch him while a War Ship hovered above them? It didn't make sense.

_"Captain Rogers knows where you are. He and the other Avengers will come for you."_

The words sounded hollow, like lies told to a child to make him cooperate.

_"You will be safe. Mark 50 is attracting the enemy's fire; I will cause a distraction and you will have time to get to safety. They will come for you, soon. Until then, stay with the bots. Use the helmet if you have to, but not unless it is necessary."_

Tony felt numb when armored fingers framed his face, and he reached out for the chest-plate he had designed with his own two hands. The steady hum of the arc reactor was easy to focus on, even with the War Ship's engines stirring the air all around them. "How is this logical?" Tony asked. "You're supposed to stay with me, no matter what," Tony argued weakly.

_"I will never leave you,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. promised. _"But I must take the armor away from you. To do what you would do, if you were wearing it."_

Tony nodded numbly. He told himself not to be afraid. It probably sounded worse than it was. J.A.R.V.I.S. was just taking precautions, seeing as the aliens had come to attack in force and it was possible the Avengers were in their targeting system. "Make me proud," Tony ordered.

_"I will,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. promised. The armor's hands fell away and Tony felt it step back. The telltale whine of the repulsors momentarily drowned out the hum of the War Ship until the thrusters shot the armor into the sky and the sound faded away.

One of the bots tugged on his hand. Tony turned, reluctantly, feeling even more lost and blind, but he held onto the bot and followed it as he heard the familiar sounds of repulsor blasts rise to the challenge.

The sounds of battle intensified for a few minutes. Tony walked in a crouched position, instinctively, expecting the War Ship to drop on him at any minute. Crouching didn't make it less likely but it helped him feel small and insignificant.

Part of his mind pondered whether this was the moment when all promises came to an end. Was this where his usefulness ended? J.A.R.V.I.S. never would have left him if the AI didn't believe the Avengers were coming, which made the possible betrayal even more painful.

Despite all the possibilities, he kept walking. The bots directed him a little to the right until the ground started dipping downhill.

The direction of the battle had turned, moving further away; thunder rumbled and lighting struck down to the ground, making Tony jump a bit but keep going; thunder meant Thor, and if Thor was still in the game, so the others should be.

After a long while, he began to hear the sound of lazily running water. The gentle slope had come to an end and the bots guided him forward. Tony smelled salt and oil, the odor unpleasant, almost industrial. You moved ahead again, then banged against something that sounded like a large metal wall, and Dummy took him closer to the source of the sound.

Tony reached out, feeling a wall beside him. Metal, possibly a shipping container. When they reached You, Tony felt around some more, finding the door and the lock keeping it closed. The bots protested loudly and You snapped his claws around it, almost clamping Tony's fingers in the process, trying to pull the lock off.

"Find me cutters, or a metal pipe. Maybe an axe," he instructed. In the distance, he could still hear the battle going on. High-energy weapons from the aliens struck down. Tony could almost smell the destruction; he had witnessed it often enough when he could still see. He wasn't sure how hiding inside a container constituted safety, but he could either keep walking or find cover and wait for someone to come get him.

If someone came…

He refused to think about it. J.A.R.V.I.S. had said he'd talked to Steve, and Steve would come if he was alive.

That was another unpleasant thought Tony refused to dwell on. When he had still been fighting, at least he had known when things were going downhill. Now, he was left sitting on the sidelines, fearing the worst and hoping for anything else.

The bots moved away from him, rummaging around. Tony tried to focus on them, to envision what they were doing. As enough time passed, his fingers began to clutch the bag he was still carrying. The helmet was safely inside, and if he put it on, he would know where they were, if they were in immediate danger, and what to do next.

J.A.R.V.I.S. had told him not to put the helmet on unless he had to, but Tony knew the AI was overly cautious. If he got killed standing around, it wouldn't matter whether he fried his brain or not.

A slight dragging sound came closer to him, metal against asphalt, and one of the bots nudged his arm carefully. Tony reached out, letting go of the bag and the helmet, and found the bot holding a metal pipe in his grip. He took it, measured it in his hands, then fit it inside the padlock's loop. He pulled at it with all his weight, then felt a bot grab onto the pipe as well, but none of it worked.

Frustrated, Tony flung the pipe to the side, kicked at the crate door – hitting it hard – and almost doubled over from the brief stab of pain. "Fucking hell!" he screamed and curled his fingers around the padlock, the heat of the pain seeming to transfer from his toes to his hand, and suddenly the padlock fell free, the metal turning hot in his hand.

Tony dropped the lock, hearing the telltale _clunk_ as if fell on the ground, then smiled smugly. "See?" he asked the bots. "I'm still useful." Dummy and You praised him unanimously, never the ones to disagree. Tony nodded and faced the door, felt around for the rest of the locking mechanism and finally managed to open the crate doors.

The smell he encountered was dank but not rotten. Tony considered it good luck and slowly entered, then stopped, retreating to see how high the threshold was. One of the bots came over, trying to climb in, but it wasn't working. Suddenly Tony's hiding place looked less appealing. He wasn't going to huddle inside a shipping container while the bots were left outside.

"Either find something to make a ramp or we'll find a different place to hide," Tony decided.

One of the bots – probably Dummy – protested loudly. That left You, who tried to move inside the crate again and failed.

"I'm going to build you rocket boosts the next time I'm in a lab," Tony promised. "Then you can fly around."

The bots let out a series of beeps.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" Tony teased. He didn't think the bots could experience vertigo, but who knew…

Something heavy landed on top of the crate.

Tony crouched down and let out a small yell of alarm, then forced himself to stay silent. If it was an alien, he would be screwed. Something shifted, scraping along the roof of the crate, heavy steps following. Tony's fingers reached for the straps of the bag while he tried to remember where he had thrown the metal pipe: he was not dying without a fight. The alien bastard was going to get cooked, but first he needed to see what he wanted to hit –

"Tony."

He almost yelled again, a war-cry dying in his throat when he registered the sound as his name, not some alien screech. He gripped tight at the bag as his heart thundered in his chest. "Thor!" he exclaimed. "You gave me a fucking heart attack!"

Tony heard the weight drop down from the top of the crate, as well as the tell-tale _thud_ of Mjolnir being lowered to the ground. The bots cooed and Tony envisioned them looking up at Thor's post-battle sweat-and-grime-covered body.

"Fangirls," he muttered.

Thor moved inside the crate. "I do not –"

"Never mind; not important," Tony told him and tried to listen for something else. "Where are the others?" He always hated this part; one or more of the Avengers came back, to join him in the aftermath of a fight, and he wasn't sure whether the rest of them were in the infirmary, cleaning up or lying dead somewhere. So far it had never been the last option, but it didn't mean he wasn't acknowledging it as an eventuality.

"They are coming," Thor reassured him. "The battle is not going in our favor. There have been many casualties and we are retreating as fast as we can. The Captain said we would be better off going on foot; less noticeable to our enemy."

Tony nodded, understanding that. He also felt a little guilty because this was a possible retaliation for his attack on the Troop Transfer ship. "Do you think this is my fault?" Tony asked, his voice echoing inside the crate. "The last battle –"

"Was glorious and well-fought," Thor told him confidently. "It raised our spirits and showed we still stand a chance against this enemy. If this is a repercussion, I can only feel that it is because we have struck a chord of fear in our adversaries."

Tony supposed there was that, but it didn't justify all the destruction and the deaths that inevitably followed. "Did you see my armor?" he asked instead. "J.A.R.V.I.S. took it in to battle."

Thor let out a deep sigh. "I am sorry: your armor took a bold approach against the enemy, diverting their main attack for important minutes before it was decimated by our foes." Tony felt the Asgardian's hesitation. "Is he going to be okay?"

Clearly Thor meant J.A.R.V.I.S.

"Yeah," Tony said confidently. "He's… He wasn't only in the suit, you know? His consciousness has been transferred to multiple locations – some of them orbiting Earth, just to be safe – and he'll be back. Already is, probably, if we have some manner of wireless communications up."

Thor hummed and moved closer. Tony could tell when they were within touching distance: it was like there was a charge in the air, making his skin crawl like he was expecting to get shocked. However, when Thor's hand reached out and grasped one of Tony's hands, gentle despite the power he wielded, there was no pain and no current charging between their bodies. "Come," Thor said softly and pulled Tony along. He was one of the few who had not yet comprehended the best way to lead him around, but Tony knew the way out this time, minding the small drop at the threshold, and then stopped when Thor stopped.

Tony waited, as patiently as he could. Thor was still holding his hand, and whether that was to ground Tony or to keep him feeling secure, he wasn't sure. It worked, oddly enough, like some pre-programmed animal instinct. Tony felt less alone, more secure, and the fear of the unseen wasn't as pressing.

Eventually he heard footsteps: a person came jogging over, movements light, and it had to be Clint; a roar and a heavy crash introduced the Hulk to the scene, and Natasha came soon after the beast, a burnt smell clinging to her.

"You okay, Nat?" Tony asked, unable to get the smell out of his nose.

"Lost a few inches of my hair, but I'm fine," she replied, knowing better than to lie.

"Where's Cap?" he asked next.

"On his way. He wasn't that far behind me," Clint replied.

"And Rhodey?" Tony hadn't heard the approach of the armor just yet.

"Rhodey's taking off with another group, to secure a bunch of civilians. We're taking another lot," the archer explained.

"We would move faster alone," Natasha sighed.

Tony made no comment about speed. Between him and the bots, it would already be slow going, but he wasn't about to leave the bots behind, even now. The others would just have to pick an easier route and walk slower for all he cared.

The Hulk marched over then, effectively halting the discussion. The ground trembled as the monster drew closer, but Tony refused to move out of the way; he knew he could trust the big guy, and besides, Thor wasn't moving either.

"Do we have clothes for Bruce?" Clint asked, which was a good question.

"Puny Banner," the Hulk huffed with passion.

"A naked, puny Banner, if we don't have anything for him to wear," Natasha observed.

Tony felt the air stir as the Hulk huffed again. The big guy liked his smaller alter-ego just about as much as Bruce still trusted the Hulk, but the war had forced them to co-exist more than before, which slowly seemed to be taking them in a better direction. Not a perfect harmony, by any means, but Bruce rarely fought the transformation anymore and his first questions weren't about whether he had hurt someone.

Thor shifted minutely, and Tony could smell smoke and ruin as the Hulk leaned closer to him; Tony heard every breath like a storm trapped in a barrel and he wondered what the big guy was doing. "Let him be," Thor mused.

"Dirty," the Hulk growled.

"Speak for yourself," Tony shot back. He didn't know how dirty he was, or the Hulk, but with years of experience from battles of various scales he could tell that no one left a fight without a smudge or two on their faces.

A too-large hand caressed his head, suddenly, gentle around the implant sites. Tony could feel fine dirt falling off him and grimaced, closing his eyes against it. "Stop," he ordered, although softly. "You'll tear off the gauze."

The Hulk pulled his hand back, letting out another huff. "Need to move," he announced next.

"As soon as Cap gets here, we will," Natasha agreed.

"Better be here soon," the monster grunted, the words followed by the telltale sounds of the transformation. Everyone waited until it was over, and once it was, Tony let go of Thor's hand and moved forward, having a fairly good idea where Bruce might be. A hand reached up for his soon enough, guiding him in, and Tony crouched down beside the half-naked scientist. Sometimes he thought Bruce felt less uneasy around him because he couldn't see the awkward state he was in, post-transformation. Then again, Tony had been rudely interrupting Bruce's attempt to center himself since they met, so it was nothing new.

"I think I might have a pair of pants in my bag," Tony said. "Something the bots picked up from the lab before we left."

Bruce gave him a weak chuckle and Tony slid the bag around his body, allowing the other man to take a look. Most likely the discovery was pleasant because no one voiced their disappointment, and Bruce shifted around for a moment before settling down again.

"Steve should be here already," Clint noted, taking a few steps.

"I shall go look for him," Thor volunteered.

"Give him a few more minutes," Natasha asked. "He's bringing other people with him, and you flying around could attract the enemy."

Thor wasn't happy about it, but he stayed put.

Bruce, in the meanwhile, continued where the Hulk had left off, bringing up a gentle hand to brush any remaining dirt off Tony's shaved head. "The wounds are healing nicely," he stated.

"They've taken their sweet time and you know it," Tony grumbled. Extremis should have completely mended the implant sites by now, instead of healing slower than normal, if possible.

"Extremis knows they're important, and instead of possibly harming the implants by regenerating at a normal rate, it's letting your body heal around them." Bruce sounded so sure about it, and Tony decided it was better for his mental health to trust in his opinion.

As Bruce finished cleaning up his head and clothing of small pieces of debris and dust, a large group of people reached them. Tony couldn't tell how many there were, but he hopefully thought he could tell Steve's purposeful stride apart from the others'.

"We need to move out now," the Captain's voice rang out a few seconds later. "We've wasted too much time already, and the enemy's spreading out after us. It's getting dark, and we won't get far."

"Where are we headed?" Clint asked, probably preparing to scout ahead.

"South, along the water's edge. There should be another base near Toledo."

"In Ohio?" Natasha confirmed. "That's nearly…"

"Sixty miles away, I know," Steve said. "Let's move out. Tony…"

"I'm fine," Tony said, because that was always the big question.

"I know," Steve said surprisingly. "I have something for you," he said, moving closer, and Tony prepared for a touch somewhere on his body. Steve pressed something in his hand, and Tony curled his fingers around it, finding an earpiece. "J.A.R.V.I.S. is online. The suit didn't make it, but he seems okay."

"Of course he is," Tony tried rolling his eyes, then placed the earpiece in his ear and tapped it.

_"Sir,"_ the AI said promptly.

"Taking a vacation, are we?"

_"Hardly, sir."_

"Good job today," Tony offered, getting to his feet.

Bruce rose beside him and reached into the bag one more time before securing it and adjusting it on Tony's shoulder so he could keep carrying it. The item he had picked last was a loose woolly hat – selected to keep his shaved head warm should they venture outside like this – and Bruce placed it on Tony's head with a few, careful tugs before offering Tony his arm. Tony took it, thankful; Bruce was tired after the fight and could match Tony's sightless pace easily. Also, he was a reliable guide.

The bots rolled into motion beside them, and Tony heard the noises of dozens of feet shuffling on their trail. Most of them weren't military, their strides too uneven.

"It will be dark in less than two hours," he heard Natasha tell someone, probably Steve. "We need to find shelter –"

"We need to put distance between us and the base, first and foremost," Steve replied, voice sharp. He clearly didn't like it, but either he had orders or it was his choice to begin with. Whatever the reason, Steve was sticking to the plan, which meant it was the most strategically sound option they had.

"We won't be able to see more than a few feet in front of us when the sun goes down," Natasha went on disagreeing. "How are you going to lead these people through unknown terrain without backtracking and adjusting the course every half a mile?"

"I can see in the dark," Tony offered. "The implants don't differentiate between light and dark."

Silence followed his offer, but he knew they were thinking about it because there hadn't been an outright objections.

"We go on as long as it can be deemed safe for you," Steve decided. "Then we take a break. By then, I bet everyone will just want to get some shut-eye and rest their feet."

They had a plan, which stopped any other arguments people may have felt like volunteering.

After walking for close to half an hour they stopped to open Tony's bag and fit the light helmet around his head. It locked into place and Tony breathed through the initial burn of the connection; he was glad J.A.R.V.I.S. was back in contact with them because the AI detailing the progress to him made it slightly more pleasant.

The second calibration was less unsettling than the first, as if his brain had adjusted to the new mode of vision. Tony took all the time he dared to get his bearings, then checked his surroundings: there were almost fifty people with them; a third of them wore S.H.I.E.L.D. or military gear, the rest looking like civilians.

With an idea of what kind of group he was going to be leading, Tony looked up ahead. The implants picked out the water on his left, rippling, deep, oddly colored due to the small temperature changes. It looked alive, ready to spring up and swallow him, but Tony told himself it wouldn't – because it was just water.

He focused on walking instead, moving past obstacles and looking beyond the obvious, leaving the others to trail behind him. The bots stayed near him, as if he still needed their protection and guidance, but Tony was happy to be his own man for a moment. To serve his purpose and be of use to the others, instead of a burden.

* * *

**Day 68 of the Alien-Human War**

In the time that followed Pepper's funeral in California and their eventual return to the fold, Tony had had time to settle into his blindness. While it should have gotten easier when he had more chances to adapt to it, Tony had begun to realize he loathed the darkness: it left him vulnerable, but more importantly, it made him feel alone. The other Avengers, holding Tony to)his word to let them help him, had become the single most important way of alleviating his fear of being abandoned.

Fury and several other high-ranking officers had given all of them a lot of flack for their AWOL departure from Oklahoma, but, honestly, who was going to punish the Avengers – who were one of the main reasons the war hadn't already been lost?

Rhodey, rather unexpectedly, had decided to stay and fight alongside the Avengers. Until then, he had been doing his own thing with the Air Force, but after Tony's accident and Pepper's death he seemed adamant about not straying too far from Tony. If someone implied he was trying to fill Iron Man's shoes – and successfully at that – Rhodey denied it, but Tony never told him not to do it.

"War Machine isn't Iron Man," Rhodey had told him one evening in the back of a truck as they headed out to another base.

"No, but to the untrained eye, they're enough alike to keep people's hopes up," Tony had mused. "As long as I'm not getting back into the armor, you might as well stick around and do your part."

"Don't you fear we'll like Rhodes better than you?" Clint had teased, but it wasn't the first time and it always put a smile on Tony's face.

"He isn't a genius," Tony had retorted.

"We've got Banner for that."

"When he isn't big, green and mean."

Bruce had chuckled and shifted his foot so that his and Tony's touched across the isle. With the small gesture, Tony had felt secure enough to fall asleep, leaning against Rhodey's shoulder for support.

It was moments like those Tony had cherished when he struggled with his daily tasks.

The first time he'd felt like he needed to shave, the situation had almost ended in a frustrated huff and a claim that he would get rid of the goatee altogether; he might have been able to do that much without cutting himself and bleeding to death.

Rhodey had sat him down after he'd finished ranting and carefully trimmed his beard for him. Since then it had become a routine between them. The only one who ever presumed to take Rhodey's place was Clint, strangely enough, but Bruce had said his handiwork was just as good as Rhodey's, so Tony let it go.

With only his vision impaired, Tony still had the need and desire to exercise. Problem was, there were only a few things he could do on his own without fear of hurting himself; they were at war and there was no treadmill for him to run on.

Steve and Thor had trained together regularly for years, whenever Thor was present, and they had always been a fine match for each other. Tony, after getting Extremis, could have offered them a bit of a challenge, but without the ability to see his adversary, it wasn't much of one. Or, so Tony had thought: one day he'd wandered into the small gym at their current base of operations, with Dummy as his guide. After he had listened to the Asgardian and super soldier go at it for a few minutes, Tony had suddenly been pulled in with them.

They had gone slow, painfully so, and it had been grappling more than anything else, but after Tony had spent an hour trying to drag Steve's body down to the mat, he had been blissfully exhausted. When he had gone to bed that night, he hadn't even dreamt.

On most nights, however, Tony had and still did feel uneasy. He hadn't actually 'dreamt' since he lost his sight, but the feelings of unease and terror had been so palpable that he might have as well been having a nightmare; he heard sounds in the darkness and sometimes he wasn't sure whether he was awake or caught in a nightly horror show that didn't differ so much from his waking hours.

In the beginning it had been worse, of course. It always was before nightmares became a routine.

After he had spent several nights tossing and turning after their return from California and had finally refused to sleep altogether, Bruce had confronted him about it: "You need to rest. So much of your energy is used during the day that you can't afford to stay up all night."

"Maybe if I'm tired enough, it will be easier to actually sleep," Tony had snapped. "You know what constant nightmares are like."

"I do," Bruce had admitted. "Is there something that would help? Sleeping pills?"

Tony had shaken his head. "Extremis neutralizes their effects."

"What is it that you dream about, specifically?"

"Darkness. Sounds and noises I can't see. Being alone, left behind, and waking up not knowing if I'm actually asleep or not."

"Anxiety, then."

"To put it mildly," Tony had huffed. "Got a remedy for that?"

They had both known that the real problems were the psychological effects of going blind in a time where the weak were left behind to fend for themselves. Just because the Avengers had vowed to keep Tony with them wouldn't change the fact that they were at war, and war took its toll on everyone.

"I think we should try something," Bruce had offered, sounding thoughtful.

"If it includes yoga –"

"Maybe you shouldn't sleep alone," Bruce had cut him off with a look of sharp determination. "If you're not alone when you wake up, maybe it will alleviate some of the anxiety. I realize you barely have a moment to yourself as it is, but you need to sleep."

Tony had known that, and just like with the shower thing, Bruce had been the first to get in bed with him. After the initial strangeness of it, Tony had relaxed and drifted off, worn out from lack of proper rest, and when he had woken up at night, sweaty and disoriented, Bruce's voice had been in his ears, fingers combing through his hair, and instead of forcing himself to stay awake for the rest of the night, Tony had drifted back to sleep.

For the first few nights it had been Bruce, but then he had been needed at the lab and Rhodey had been Tony's obvious second choice. It had worked just as well, although Rhodey hadn't been sure what to say when Tony had woken up whimpering at night; before Tony's injury, they had learned to see each other's strong side, trying to keep up a solid front. Rhodey adapted to the changes, though, and Tony had a feeling the other man rather enjoyed being able to be there for Tony, finally.

When it had come time for the Avengers to join the war effort again, Tony had known he would be left to fend for himself at night. He had been a trooper about it, though, saying he would manage. The two first nights had been hard, and then Clint got shipped back to base, after he had been injured during the fight, and it had led to the first time Tony slept next to someone other than Bruce or Rhodey.

After that, it had been a steady rotation amongst all of them, and depending on their location, sometimes even two of the Avengers shared his bed. Tony had gotten the feeling by then that it wasn't just to comfort him, but all of them.

It had been odd, yet not completely unexpected, that Steve had become one of his favorites. In bed, he was solid and so fucking warm, and every time Tony woke up, Steve did as well, and Tony could almost hear his heartbeat, which was almost better than just feeling him and hearing his breaths in the dark.

Tony tried not to play favorites, appreciating the extra effort from his team. He never caught them arguing about who had to sleep with him next. Tony liked to think that even a hardened spy like Natasha actually meant it when she whispered Russian endearments in Tony's ear when he had trouble getting back to sleep after a particularly oppressing dream. They both knew he understood every word, even the little verse of an old Russian lullaby she murmured into the night; it was moments like those when Tony had to believe it wasn't a hardship for any of them to be there for him, _with him_.

Their sleeping arrangement was just one thing that became a routine between Tony and the others. It was rare that Tony was completely alone with the bots and under J.A.R.V.I.S.'s supervision; at least one of the Avengers was always somewhere in the room, doing their own thing, and as crowded as it made Tony feel, as if his independence was being questioned, the benefits were too blatant to be overshadowed by his light irritation.

With the constant company came the subtle announcements whenever someone was coming or going – either by J.A.R.V.I.S., which was an old, comfortable habit for Tony and the AI both, or by the Avengers themselves. Whenever a stranger approached, it was J.A.R.V.I.S.'s duty, if possible in the current setting, to instruct the person to maintain their distance from Tony; he didn't like being touched out of the blue – or out of the black, as it were. People tended to forget that, especially when something urgent happened, but as long as Tony could avoid it, he did.

Besides, he still didn't like being handed things, more so than before. He would rather have people set the item down somewhere and let him take his time figuring it out and then seize it. Tony made an exception for most of his teammates, if the situation called for it. His absolute favorite way of having others hand him things came to involve Dummy or You playing the middle man; the bots had been built to help him, to interact with him, and it made sense they would only give him things that weren't dangerous.

If there was room to choose – and there often was, unless the Avengers were out fighting – there were certain routines that grew between them. Natasha never helped Tony in the kitchen: she didn't bring him his food, didn't pour him a drink, or help him unwrap his lunch. There was no obvious reason for that, as far as Tony had figured. It made even less sense that she would voluntarily help him in the bathroom – even the shower – and Tony never felt like he was expected to do anything other than shower or do bathroom-y things. Perhaps that was why she did it; to make a point.

Clint never trained with Tony. Whether he was afraid he would hurt him – which didn't make sense since Thor and Steve didn't share that fear – or if he just didn't want to slow down to be on Tony's level, no one knew.

Steve was the least eager to offer Tony help when he struggled, which Tony thought came from Steve's own past of being the sickly little guy. However, when Tony's pride prevented him from asking for Steve's assistance, the other man knew when to step in – wordlessly, without comment, as if he were a natural extension of Tony for as long as he needed it.

Thor had always enjoyed describing things, and he still did so. Tony had never really listened to his tales of Asgard more than was necessary, but he found that Thor's descriptions, even when he lacked the proper vocabulary, were often the most satisfying – save for Bruce's, but that was just because Tony clicked with his science bro.

Bruce came out of his shell when they were alone, which was perhaps the most pleasant surprise to come out of the whole experience. He liked to touch, which Tony allowed, and he slept close to Tony whenever they shared the bed. He recited scientific formulas to Tony when he couldn't sleep and even told Tony how it felt to be inside the Hulk's head. In the darkness, it seemed they were both at ease, finally, and Tony didn't look too hard at why that was.

Rhodey was… he was doing his best to adjust, but took the longest. He wasn't particularly good at leading Tony around, too stiff to give him enough cues, but he tried so hard that Tony let it go rather than suggesting someone else give him their arm. The things Tony did with the others – showering, shaving, checking him for injuries – didn't feel nearly as intimate with someone else as they did with Rhodey. It wasn't the bad kind of awkwardness and they often laughed about it, forcing the miniscule amount of lingering tension to retreat. Rhodey said, one time, that he hated seeing Tony like this and that it was really hard for him sometimes, but he held firmly onto Tony's hand afterwards, unwilling to let go, and Tony took it as it was.

As a whole, the team had grown closer in a relatively short span of time, in a way fighting together had never done. Tony had often wondered whether it would have happened if he had never lost his sight; the war would have still gone on and the Avengers would have struggled through one battle after another, and while it surely would have brought them closer as a team…

Tony's condition had made them all a bit vulnerable, but it wasn't a bad thing.

Still, it didn't take much to upset the delicate balance and breach the cocoon of safety Tony had woven around himself.

The alarm came in the middle of the night, jarring Tony out of his sleep. On either side of him, both Clint and Natasha jerked into wakefulness as well, scrambling off the bed, leaving Tony momentarily alone in the midst of the sheets.

"Fuck," Clint swore, over and over. Tony could tell he was pulling his clothes on at top speed, and then he heard his bow snap open. "They're here," the archer said, words coming fast, like he didn't have a second to spare. He must have already heard something Tony hadn't, and Tony tried to remember if he had taken off his own earpiece just before bed, or even earlier.

"Go," Natasha ordered, and Tony hoped she was talking to Clint and not him.

"Just do as you're told, Nat," Clint murmured an answer. "Take him and keep him safe."

"You stay safe," she replied harshly, then tugged on Tony's arm abruptly. "You need to get dressed. The aliens are attacking the compound and Cap ordered me to get you out of here."

Cap, not Steve, which meant Natasha was annoyed by the orders. Tony didn't pay attention to that part when the actual news reached his brain. "The aliens are attacking us? Here?"

"As we speak," Natasha said, and as if to agree with her, a loud bang echoed through the entire building they were in, coming from the outside. The power went out, an eerie silence falling around them that even Tony could detect.

He hurried to the edge of the bed, taking the clothes Natasha handed to him, dressing as quickly as he could. "The bots –"

"We don't have time to get them," Natasha said, tugging on Tony's shoes for him. He fought not to pull back his feet to do it himself, or to argue with her until she dropped the hard-ass act and agreed that they should get the bots. "They're safe," she stated next, as if knowing what Tony was considering. "They're at the mobile lab, where you left them, and that place is safer than where we are right now."

"So let's go there," Tony suggested.

"Too far and in the wrong direction." She zipped up his jacket and pulled him to his feet, then stepped away, leaving Tony standing there dumbly, waiting for her guidance. He heard her moving around, collecting items, and finally she returned, just as another bang shook the building.

The aliens had never attacked a base of any kind before. Mobilized military force was more their thing, or a heavily militarized base, and Tony was starting to feel that this was some kind of repetition of the attack on his house in Malibu. However, it was more likely that the aliens had decided to change tactics and bring the fight to them, instead of allowing the humans to choose where their battles would be fought.

Natasha forcefully lifted Tony's hand to her arm and pulled him along. When they got out to the hallway and down a short flight of stairs, Tony heard broken glass crunch under his shoes and smelled smoke in the air. In the distance, people were shouting and screaming. The sound of weapons followed soon after, familiar, making his blood rush loudly in his ears.

Tony wasn't sure why Natasha didn't just dump him in some shelter and join the others in the fight. Well, he knew how useless shelters were against the alien weapons, which could dig craters in the earth, collapse a building and shake others within a quarter-mile radius; if they wanted Tony to survive this, the only way was to take him outside the fight zone – and that was, most likely, what Natasha had been told to do.

No one else was joining them, by the sound of it, and Tony tried to fight the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Keep moving," Natasha told him when they got outside. The air was thick with smoke and dust, smells and sounds assaulting Tony's senses. At one point he was certain he stepped on a body, but Natasha forced him to keep walking.

For the longest time it didn't sound like they were moving away from the fight. Tony felt like suggesting that Natasha should just take him to the bots and leave him there, seeing as they weren't putting any distance between themselves and the danger, but the fact that she could see their situation with two healthy eyes and he could not made him keep his mouth shut; his ears struggled to make sense of every sound, but most likely didn't give him the perfect glimpse at what was really happening.

The smooth street ended abruptly, forcing Tony to slow down. He heard a sharp exhale of either disappointment or frustration from Natasha and tried to move faster, but he either took his time or risked falling and hurting himself, and they both should have known which was preferable. A few steps later, despite her feelings on the matter, Natasha slowed down as well, allowing Tony to find his footing as the terrain got harder to read with bumps and slippery grass.

They came to a steep downhill grade soon after. Tony stopped in hesitation, not knowing how far it would go or whether it would end in a sudden drop if he moved too fast. Natasha didn't leave him time to debate, however, tugging him along, and Tony focused on keeping his balance and not falling over. He yearned to ask her for a description of their surroundings – anything to know what lay in wait. It wasn't in Natasha's nature to divulge such information if someone couldn't already see it for themselves, and occasionally Tony wondered whether she forgot Tony couldn't see, despite his hesitation.

"There's a drop coming," she said. "No more than three feet down."

Tony slowed down, instinctively. Three feet was a lot when you didn't see it. He had been forced jump before, and there was a reason why someone was usually ready to catch him – usually Steve or Thor, both of whom were able to hold him up effortlessly and soften his landing so that it felt like nothing to him.

He doubted Natasha would do the same.

When they got to the edge, Tony toed the line between solid earth and emptiness. Somewhere below, he heard water. Natasha jumped in without warning, a splash following. The steady, rising sound of something exploding began to grow behind them, and Tony stiffened to wait for a stirring of air and heat on his skin.

"Come on," Natasha urged. Her arm had disappeared from Tony's hold just before she jumped, and now she reached up to urge him to join her. It startled and scared him all over again, and his foot moved out over the emptiness. Her hand came to rest on his knee, squeezing, steadying him. "Three feet, no more. There's water at the bottom. The surface is smooth and a little slick."

Description. Finally.

Tony nodded, lowered his foot, then waited for her to move. Once Natasha let go of his knee, Tony took a step forward and sort of jumped, hoping he wouldn't hit the edge on the way down.

He didn't.

However, the water shocked him, even when he knew it was there, as did the slick, hard bottom of whatever ditch they had jumped into. Tony began to fall, his brain imagining the icy plunge before it happened, but Natasha's arm reached out before he ended up lying in the water, helping him regain his balance before it was completely lost.

"You good?" she asked.

"Yeah," Tony nodded, straightening. The water was moving, not rapidly but enough for him to feel it even through his clothing. He was glad there was nothing important in his pants pockets.

"Come on," Natasha urged, once again guiding Tony's hand onto her arm and pulling him forward, against the current. "There's a step coming," she informed him before he felt her body move upwards. It wasn't much, but his shoe collided against the edge and he slowly stepped at least ten inches up to higher ground.

Their movements started echoing, suggesting they were entering an enclosed space. There were smells, too, damp and wet, which Tony didn't particularly like, but Natasha kept moving forward and he followed, the feeling of claustrophobia increasing as they went on. They didn't get far before the air started to smell far from fresh. There wasn't as much water, which made walking easier, and the current was almost lazy. The steady sound of water and their movements were starting to drive Tony insane, but he didn't know the way out, other than the way they had come, and he had no way of knowing if they had passed a juncture or not. He was fairly certain the answer was no, but even if he went back, what would he do? Climb back up the hill, cross the uneven terrain to find the road and then stand there or start running into things.

Following Natasha was the only real option he had.

They walked for what felt like hours until the sounds started changing, the air turned fresher, and Tony felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. Not that he saw a light, which would have been a miracle, but he tried walking faster to make it less like Natasha had to drag him along. They hadn't spoken since entering the tunnel, which was what Tony called it in his head, and he didn't think breaking that silence now would make a difference.

The exit to the outside air was unceremonious: Tony almost fell on his face when Natasha failed to tell him of the sudden drop into deeper water, and Natasha grunted as Tony's weight landed on her, close to taking them both down. She stayed on her feet, though – and didn't comment on it either, so she must have realized her error.

Natasha pulled them out of the water to even, partly dry partly muddy ground, and Tony started feeling cold for the first time. "Can you stay here for a moment?" she asked. "I need to see what we're up against."

"Up against?" Tony asked, trying to listen in order to find out if they weren't alone.

"Figure of speech," she corrected him. "There's a piece of pipe at your seven o'clock. Can you hide inside it?"

Tony moved slowly without her lead and found it. His hands felt it out, deciding it was a concrete storm drain pipe, big enough to fit him if he hunched over a bit. They must have come through a tunnel made from pieces much like this. "It will do," Tony mused, then turned in the direction he thought he had heard Natasha last. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Scouting," she repeated. "I won't be long. Stay put, be quiet."

Tony frowned then got inside the pipe, curling up to feel a bit warmer and waited.

As she had promised, Natasha didn't take long. When she returned, though, Tony could tell that she wasn't happy. "I spotted a couple Drones. I either need to take them out or they need to leave before we can move." Which was her way of saying that Tony was too slow and clumsy to keep up with her.

"Or we could just hang here," Tony offered. "The pipe's kind of cozy."

She chuckled, then cut off the sound and grew silent. Somewhere above, far away, a sound of something flying by reached Tony's ears. Maybe it was one of the Drones; it was hard to tell, what with the echoes and the steady sound of running water nearby.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Natasha spoke up, voice hushed. "Stay here. You're completely out of sight the way you are."

"But –"

"We'll come for you," she promised, and then she was gone.

Tony had never felt so alone. He sat in the pipe, holding his breath in long intervals before he absolutely had to breathe, trying to hear everything. The Drone didn't fly by again, or he just didn't hear it. The water kept on flowing, a gust of wind teased the leaves of several trees nearby, and Tony shifted deeper into the pipe, trying to find a place where he couldn't feel a draft. He got colder as minutes and hours trickled by, but eventually Extremis kicked in, banishing the shivers and the chattering teeth he tried to keep from making a sound. He drifted off, slept uneasily, waking up at sounds he may have imagined or actually heard in his sleep.

He tried not to sleep so much after, but as the hours grew longer, his doubts grew with them.

How long had it been? When was Natasha coming back – or the others? How far away was he from the battle?

Tony couldn't hear the sounds of fighting, which was a consolation. Perhaps the battle had ended and the others were coming for him right now. He didn't need to worry.

It must have been close to twelve hours when the need to pee became overwhelming. Tony loathed getting out of the pipe, feeling safe inside it – out of sight – but he wasn't going to urinate inside his safe place, so he eventually risked crawling out, walking a few feet from the pipe and then struggling to open his pants enough to relieve himself.

Nothing moved around him, other than leaves rustling in the wind. The trees weren't right over him but further away, yet Tony didn't dare go look for them; the others were coming for him, and if he strayed too far, they wouldn't find him so easily. Besides, the aliens might still be out there, or Drones at least, and so Tony made his way back to the pipe, sat down, curled into a ball and wished the hours away.

Time passed. He was unable to count it or measure it, having already lost so much time while sleeping and aimlessly thinking of stuff to pass the time. It had been too long, however. He was getting hungry and tired all over again – cold, too – and there were no sounds and no rescue coming for him.

The battle had to have ended, because they hadn't come that far, and new fears began to claw at his mind.

What if the others were dead?

Tony refused to believe it. The Hulk and Thor, for one, were too hard to kill; the aliens had tried and failed in the past. Steve was too stubborn to go down, and Natasha… she had promised to come back – that they would come back. It wasn't like her to break promises… only it was. Tony had just forgotten about it, about the life she had led until becoming an Avenger. She had survived things worse than the apocalypse – or so she would say – and she would keep on surviving.

Leaving Tony behind was probably a calculated move. She hadn't even left him any food, or clothes, although they had both been wet from their trek through the pipe.

Being abandoned didn't sit well with Tony. He accepted it, of course, because it had been an eventuality. He was a burden, slowing the others down, making them weak and vulnerable. He hadn't been able to work on whatever may have caused the aliens fear, and there were no guarantees Rhodey and Steve's theory was a sound one.

Tony wished Natasha would have allowed him to take the bots, at least. That way he would have made it a bit further before their batteries ran out. Hell, he wished for a suit of armor right now, with J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice in his ears, filling the darkness with _something_ other than the darkness itself.

In the hours following his deduction that he had been left to fend for himself and die alone, Tony told himself, several times, to get up and walk away. After each time he found himself still sitting inside the pipe, legs pulled up, small shivers telling him it was too cold to be out here alone. Hours and hours he sat there, envisioning how he would get out, go towards the sound of the trees and then move on – and then eventually collapse and just drift away, parched and too hungry and tired to move. The aliens wouldn't even need to come for him again because his body would just shut down eventually, Extremis or no, giving up.

He tried sleeping, in case that helped him make up his mind about actually leaving. The dreams were worse, filled with the trickle of water, his labored breaths in the dark and the splashes of footsteps echoing on round concrete walls. The trickle and breaths were still there when he woke up, a wind curling inside the pipe.

A few times Tony heard a noise from further away, giving him hope, but the high squeaks that barely fit within his hearing range made shivers run up his spine instead. _Rats_, he told himself. _They've got to be rats._

He hoped they were rats because anything else was just him taunting himself, hanging hope on a dark wall of desperation.

Tony Stark was going to die in a drain pipe or blindly walking around, and that wasn't the end he had envisioned for himself even after he got blinded. Fate was a cruel mistress…

_to be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6: Calm - Rage

**Chapter 6: Calm / Rage**

* * *

**Day 116 of the Alien-Human War**

They got picked up some twenty miles outside Toledo, just before Monroe. It had been five days since they started walking – five days that should have easily taken them to their destination even with regular, extended breaks for Tony, but there were over thirty civilians to consider and they weren't used to marching day and night, no matter the weather or the amount of food, water, warmth and shelter.

The group had relied on Tony's vision more heavily than originally expected: he detected enemy movement long before anyone else did, giving them time to find cover before Droids were above them. None of them wanted to risk battle with the civilians tagging along, Clint almost out of arrows and Steve still bruised from the last round. Bruce also voiced that he wasn't looking forward to another transformation so soon, which left them with limited possibilities.

A search team from S.H.I.E.L.D. finally caught up with them, and everyone let out a sigh of relief.

"Any word from Colonel Rhodes?" Tony asked one of the agents while he still wore the helmet.

The man gave him a quick glance then nodded. "The aliens tracked down his group. The Air Force backed them up but there were casualties and a lot of injuries. Colonel Rhodes is reportedly fine, though, and his suit is still functioning."

It was a nice set of details and Tony accepted the report with a curt nod, knowing the agent hadn't had a reason to elaborate past a 'yes'. "Thanks," he murmured, then turned to locate his teammates. Steve and Bruce were looking at him while Thor was on the phone – possibly with Jane, although Tony could not see his expression; before, he would have known just by looking at Thor that he had been in contact with his beloved Jane.

He lowered his face, focusing on Steve's shield for a bit. The surface almost blinded him, briefly, as his vision adjusted to gaze at the painted vibranium surface. When the pain wore off, it glimmered at him like the sun, which was a little odd.

"Everything okay?" Bruce asked as Tony slowly moved over to them.

"Rhodey's safe," he reported.

"Good," Natasha commented before anyone else could.

Tony nodded, not feeling like he needed to elaborate on that.

Dummy and You rolled over, chirping quietly, and while looking at the bots Tony almost missed Steve reaching out to him before his hand landed on his shoulder. "You've worn the helmet for a while now," the blond stated, which was a hint. The bots let out clicks of agreement.

Tony hung his head a bit, looking at the ground, imagining the darkness that followed those words. The implants attempted to adjust his gaze, to allow him to see more in-detail, but the earth was dense, without power-lines or wires dug inside it, although there was a pipe, possibly filled with water… "I know," he whispered.

Steve's hand slid up on his shoulder, to his neck, and then to the edge between skin and helmet. He didn't tug or pull; just rested his fingers there, feeling the contrast. Tony supposed his return to darkness was hard on all of them, not just him.

With a sigh, Tony reached up and undid the helmet, feeling it disconnect from the implants before it unlocked from around his skull, allowing him to pull it off.

Steve's fingers retreated, but only enough to let Tony remove the helmet; they returned to caress his shaved skin, not avoiding the implant sites but careful not to scratch at them, either. "There's food and water," Steve offered.

"I think I should sleep," Tony admitted.

"We have transport coming," Bruce told him. "Hold out until then."

Tony nodded and allowed Steve to lead him to something that was possibly a park bench, pulling on his woolly hat one-handed as he walked. As soon as he was seated, someone offered him a bottle – probably water – and a snack bar. It was possibly that same someone who sat beside him as Tony slowly worked to open the wrapper and the twist cap. "I know you think we're worrywarts, most of the time," Clint's voice reached his ears. "About you using the helmet," he clarified.

"No one wants me to wind up brain-dead – myself included," Tony stated, taking a careful bite of the snack bar. Chocolate and peanuts, yummy. A little on the dry side, but that's why he had the water.

"I guess it's pretty addictive, being able to see again," Clint went on. Tony wasn't sure whether the archer actually wanted to talk about it or just felt like he needed to let Tony know he hadn't left.

"It's not the same," Tony mused, taking another bite of the bar. "Not like before. Not like… human eyes."

"But it's better than nothing, right?"

"Yeah." Tony supposed Clint had made his point – if there had been a point to begin with.

"You did good these past few days," Clint offered, like that was what he had been getting at all this time.

Tony snorted and finished the snack bar with a final bite. "I'm not a kid who needs to be told that," he said around the mouthful, chewing slowly.

"No, but everyone likes a compliment every once in a while. And… it seems cruel, to switch it on and off while you still can't make it permanent," the other man stated, moving to stand up.

"Doesn't mean I won't stick my head in that helmet every chance I get," Tony informed him. "I would have wanted to help even if it weren't necessary. Now that I can," he added a bit unhappily.

Clint hummed, like he didn't quite agree, then walked away.

Tony carefully swallowed and sipped the water, waiting. He knew that he wasn't alone – knew that one of his team was nearby, or the bots if not the Avengers. He was never truly alone. Some days, it felt like he would never be alone again. He was surprisingly fine with that.

"Hey," Natasha's voice called out a moment later.

"Where did Clint find a Snickers bar?" Tony asked.

"No idea; he must have found a store while he was scouting earlier. He sure as hell didn't give anyone else one," she retorted, feigning irritation. "Could have saved me a bite," she teased, sitting down to take Clint's place, although she shifted closer to him, bumping their shoulders together, letting her warmth settle against Tony's right side.

Tony smirked in her general direction. "Well, I'm so much nicer than the rest of you…"

Natasha didn't go for the low blow that would have been a natural extension of that statement. They both knew why Tony got special treatment from all his teammates. They didn't talk about it because Tony would have rejected their gestures if they had, and thus the balance remained.

Tony drank some more, then carefully twisted the cap back on and laid the bottle in the crease between his legs. He spread his fingers on his thighs, feeling the coarse, dirty pants. All of them needed clean clothes, a shower, and a proper bed to sleep in. Tony wondered who would sleep with him this first night. Rhodey, most likely, if they ended up in the same place. If not… then it would certainly be a question Tony felt almost ridiculously giddy to answer, even though it was utterly pointless to debate either way.

"We're ready to move out," Steve's voice called out to them. "Tony, could you come help me with the bots?" Which meant Tony would be giving instructions and encouragements in case the bots felt uncertain about something – or were simply in a cranky mood. Moving around this much was getting stressful for them, but they had adapted well and Tony put it high on his to-do list to tell them he was proud of them both.

Natasha led him towards the transport, their surroundings swiftly filled by dozens of people talking at once, shouting orders and asking for directions. Still, in the midst of it all, Tony's ears picked up the sounds of the bots, like a mother honing in on her children.

"Where do you want them?" Tony asked, slowing down a bit, knowing they were approaching whatever means of transport was laid before them.

"On the back of this cargo truck. The bots refuse to get on the lift gate," Steve answered from nearby, and the bots made a loud protest at his words.

Tony sighed. "Guide me to it. I'll ride in the back with them." Natasha didn't argue; she took him over to where the ground switched over to metal, Tony's feet just missing the slight rise as he stepped on the lift gate. Natasha didn't move away, staying where she was, and Tony snapped the fingers of his free hand. "Dummy, You! You know the drill. Roll out."

He heard the bots comply and their added weights slightly shifted the lift gate. One of the bots poked him in the back then held onto his jacket as if they didn't like this or were scared. Natasha's free hand slid over to signal he should tighten his hold, just in time for the lift gate to start moving. Tony tensed, fighting to keep his balance, leaning a little onto the robot arm that was still at his back. Natasha's hold also had a grounding effect, easing the nauseating sense of falling although Tony knew they were moving up.

The lift gate stopped moving eventually, the final shift upwards almost sending Tony tumbling forward, but the bot pulled onto the back of his jacket harder to prevent that. The insides of the truck container smelled a little foul, and Natasha took a moment to find him a place to sit. The bots rolled in behind them, finding places to stay, and then Tony heard the distinct sound of someone hopping inside.

"I will ride with him," Thor proclaimed.

"I hope they'll drive fast," Natasha murmured, in a low tone that was probably supposed to be missed by Tony.

"We will be able to rest soon," Thor comforted her, a lot louder, then settled down beside Tony on the hard floor. Natasha left, the lift gate closing after a moment, and Tony noticed that he no longer expected it to get darker the way he had at the beginning of his blindness.

He was finally starting to adapt – just when he also got a chance at restoring his vision, at least partially.

The truck started and jerked forward almost immediately, and Tony braced himself against the motion. A draft started almost instantly, making him tug the collar of his jacket higher and the hat lower over his head

"There is gap in the wall," Thor mused. He shifted around for a bit without getting up, then draped something around Tony's form, tugging it firmly around him. "I do not feel the cold as you do," the Asgardian murmured, and Tony slid his fingers along the heavy fabric. He guessed it was Thor's cloak. "I can see trees lining the road," the other man went on. The truck sped up, the road changing, and Tony guessed they had hit a highway. "Trees and grass…"

Tony listened to Thor describe the flashes of things he saw, probably through the aforementioned hole in the container's wall. The cloak was surprisingly warm and cocooned Tony in a comfortable zone between wakefulness and sleep.

The drive didn't last long, and Tony was still relatively awake when the lift gate opened and Thor helped him up. He heard the Asgardian snort. "I liked the roadside better," Thor stated – which meant they were at another industrial-looking military compound.

This time the bots were eager to get onto the lift gate, and Tony could feel their bodies turning and bumping against him as they looked around.

"Rhodey's here," Bruce announced just a second before Tony smelled the familiar mix of metal and sweat.

"Thank God," Rhodey uttered as he approached, his voice so honestly relieved Tony wondered how crappy his last five days had been. Before he could ask, Rhodey was holding onto him and hugging him tight. "I was worried the aliens must have caught up with you, too, the way they kept attacking us over and over."

"They tried to find us, but we stayed under the radar," Steve said. As always, Tony hadn't heard him approach, but then, Rhodey was kind of cutting off his air supply since he refused to relinquish his hold on Tony, making it hard to focus on anything but his friend.

"We're fine," Tony managed, patting Rhodey awkwardly on the back.

Rhodey let him go, just a little, probably searching Tony for any signs of concealed trauma. He paused after he must have accepted Tony was still in one piece. "I saw your armor go down, just before we decided to split up," he said. "It took almost a day before J.A.R.V.I.S. connected with my suit and said you were fine." His hand returned to grip Tony's shoulder with bruising force. "I wasn't sure if you were in the suit or not…"

"If I had been in the suit, J.A.R.V.I.S. would have flown away from the battle, not straight into a Category 5 ship," Tony noted, then frowned. "Is J okay? I talked to him for the first two days but then my earpiece stopped working and we had trouble with the radio, and once we got some of the radios working he wasn't responding …"

"I think he's trying to make back-ups and has been checking the network for errors," Rhodey replied. "He downloaded a light version of his armor interface to my suit to help me in a pinch, but either way, my suit's in need of some repairs."

"I'll look into it –"

"Not today," Rhodey ordered. "I need to sleep." He didn't let go of Tony's shoulder, which was more than a hint that Tony was going to join him in that bed, wherever it was.

"Let's get inside," Steve decided and led the Avengers into the facility. Rhodey took over Tony's guidance, a little handsy whenever he needed to point out something out of the usual, but Tony allowed it because they had just been apart for five days, neither of them knowing how the other was doing.

Next time, Tony was going to vote that the team stay together, no matter what. He was certain there had been some tactical advantage in having Rhodey go with the other group, but Tony heard through the grapevine that Rhodey had almost died, and the idea of him not making it back to the rest of them was unbearable. When Tony reached that conclusion, he held onto Rhodey a lot more firmly than was necessary.

The room Rhodey and Tony ended up in was small. The bots stayed outside, most likely guarding the door and threatening to poke anyone who lingered outside it in the hallway.

"I smell," Tony decided once he stopped long enough to take a whiff of his clothes.

"Shower, then bed," Rhodey decided, helping Tony strip. With their wardrobes constantly changing, depending on what was available to them, Tony had some difficulty keeping up with the buttons, laces, zippers and other tricky fasteners he hadn't considered tricky when he could still see them. However, putting on the helmet and activating the implants wasn't worth the effort, and besides, someone was usually there to help him, just like tonight.

When Rhodey walked them into the shower, the space was cold and small, and the water refused to heat up past lukewarm. Rhodey grumbled but they proceeded with the shower anyway; they needed to get clean.

Just like when he had guided Tony to this room, Rhodey took over the washing duties more than he usually would have. Tony felt like telling him he could do it himself, but Rhodey's touch was desperate and shaky, as if he needed this in order to cope with some fear Tony didn't understand, so he left the other man to it, trying not to feel uncomfortable. He had endured worse things with people he liked and respect a lot less than he did James Rhodes.

They finished quickly once the water started turning from lukewarm to icy. Rhodey's already peculiar mood plummeted a little, but his touch was gentle when he started toweling Tony off. That was where Tony drew the line: "I can do this," he said simply, took the towel from Rhodey and proceeded to dry himself. The other man didn't fight him, probably focusing on drying his own body, and by the time Tony was satisfied, Rhodey was ready to take the towel from him, put on a fresh pair of underwear and lead them to the bed.

The sheets smelled clean – too clean – and were almost coarse against the skin. Tony slid in gratefully nonetheless, forgoing supper or brushing his teeth in order to catch a few extra minutes of much-needed sleep. Rhodey got in bed soon after him, and Tony felt his breaths against his face as they curled close to one another. The sheets were too thin to be of any real warmth, but Rhodey's skin held a heat of its own.

"I heard your trip here didn't go very well," Tony mused.

"No. One of the War Ships kept trailing us and after a bit I told the others we should start hiding instead of shooting back. They didn't listen, but then, it didn't take long before they were all dead and everyone else agreed on changing tactics. If not for that, I might have come here alone…"

"Why didn't half the team join you?" Tony frowned. When he had heard the people had split up into two groups, he hadn't asked who was in the other group, save for Rhodey, but the Avengers had stuck with him.

"They figured my half of the group had enough military fire power to go without an extra superhero. Clearly they were wrong."

Tony slid a hand over Rhodey's side and up to his shoulder, squeezing tight. "You're here. That's all that matters."

He felt Rhodey's head shift on the pillow they were currently sharing, his breaths coming faster, harder. "I was so scared you were being chased by the other ships. That none of you would make it here."

"We're all here." Frankly, though, Tony felt like Rhodey didn't care about them as a group, but had rather worried only about Tony. "I'm here," he added in a whisper, just in case it made a difference.

Clearly it did, because Rhodey leaned in and kissed him all of a sudden, surprising Tony. It was quick and desperate, and not to be mistaken for some romantic gesture. Afterwards, Rhodey slid his hand across Tony's scalp, fingers fanning out, and lay close to him, breaths slowly easing down from their rather strained pace into something that was closer to sleep.

Tony tried to relax in the rather unnatural position. He had grown used to sleeping close to other people by now, but sometimes he still wanted his space – although when the dreams struck, he was happy to find someone on the other side of the mattress, to hold onto until he could sleep again, or until it was time to get up.

The door of the room opened some time later, stirring Tony out of the half-daze he had fallen into. He lifted his head although that didn't actually make it any clearer what was going on, since he couldn't see anything.

"May I join you?" Bruce's voice drifted from the direction of the door.

"Sure," Tony whispered back. Rhodey didn't stir so he must have fallen asleep. As Tony moved a little, Rhodey shifted as well, loosening his hold on Tony somewhat. In the darkness, Bruce stripped off his clothes and then rounded the bed, lifting the sheet to slip in behind Tony.

"I brought you something," Bruce said and Tony felt his friend's fingers brush against the shell of his ear, then place something in the ear canal. Tony felt a familiar press as the device locked into place and he smiled.

_"Good evening, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s smooth voice greeted him. _"Congratulations on making it to Toledo."_

"Thanks," Tony murmured and laid his head back on the pillow as Bruce settled down.

J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't reply or explain the issues he might have been having. The AI must have known, somehow, that Tony was in bed, which meant he was about to sleep; J.A.R.V.I.S. could wait until morning before making his report.

Bruce shifted for a bit longer, as if he couldn't find a comfortable position. One of his hands moved to lie on Tony's side, eventually, and Tony moved his own to grasp it, pulling it properly around his body.

"What's up?" Tony asked. Bruce never joined him in bed when someone else was already there; a third person could join them after Bruce and Tony had already laid down, but for some reason it never happened in reverse.

Bruce was quiet for a moment and Tony was almost convinced he wasn't going to get an answer. Eventually, though, Bruce pressed his face against the back of Tony's neck and drew a careful breath. "I shouldn't have left you."

"Left me where?"

"In Detroit."

Tony's squeezed the fingers in his grip. "You didn't leave me; I was in good hands, between J.A.R.V.I.S. and the bots."

"That's what Betty said," Bruce murmured morosely.

"You talked to Betty?" Tony knew for a fact that Bruce called Betty Ross a lot less than Thor called Jane Foster. Tony had tried to imply that Bruce should make his move while he still could, with the imminent apocalypse and all, but Bruce was still dragging his feet about it, the stubborn idiot.

Bruce nodded then stilled, and Tony could have sworn he felt Bruce's lips press a kiss to his skin. It was a very weird night. Maybe they were all starting to reach a breaking point, with the pace of the war obviously changing. "She said that with the implants, you would have the chance to get to safety if the need arose."

"It didn't," Tony said, not lingering on the long minutes while J.A.R.V.I.S. led him around while the enemy blew up the city around them. All of it felt more oppressing and intimate when he couldn't see a thing, but there was no reason to tell Bruce that right now, when he was already upset.

"I'm sorry about the armor," Bruce added, as if that was his fault, too.

"Me, too, but… I have a few more in reserve, in case of a bad day. A _really_ bad day," he added, because bad days were mandatory right now.

Bruce chuckled and fell silent, clearly done apologizing and feeling guilty – at least long enough to let Tony sleep if he could not find rest of his own.

* * *

**Day 71 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony snapped out of the deep reverie he had fallen into. The air was stirring around his shelter, creating a draft more powerful than the wind alone. Next came a sound, like an afterthought, and he stiffened in response to it: an engine, hovering somewhere above him. For a few seconds he dared to think of rescue, but it could just as well be the aliens, and if he ran, he had no idea where he was going to end up. Shot, most likely, like a frightened animal mid-flight.

A heavy _thump_ came from close by, making him start. It would be best to lay still and quiet, to make them think he was dead or maybe not have them find him at all…

Footsteps followed the thump, but instead of the hard, metallic fall of alien armor's feet, it was softer yet no less heavy. Tony held his breath, listening to the steps moving around. A sharp inhale, louder than the air still being stirred by the engines, carried over to him, then another.

Tony envisioned some alien beast trying to sniff him out, but he had never seen such a thing, or heard of any other kind of aliens than the ones they had already encountered in the suits or on the manned ships.

The sniffing continued, followed by an angry growl and the sound of something heavy rolling over, colliding with something equally heavy; a piece of a storm drain pipe hitting another.

Were they going to smash the pipes into pieces and find his mangled body in the ruins?

Of all the ways to die Tony could think of, that wasn't one of his favorites. Broken bones, internal bleeding; Extremis trying to fight the damage until the aliens dug him out and finished the job –

"Tony," a voice called, guttural and familiar, banishing any thoughts of death. Another strong sniff and a disappointed growl followed, then a smashing sound, concrete breaking.

"I'm here," Tony called out, his voice pathetically weak. He started moving towards one end of the pipe – the one closest to his head because it really didn't matter to him where he came out, as long as he did.

The heavy footfalls followed his progress out of the pipe, and when Tony finally felt wet earth under his palms instead of cold concrete, the massive feet took a few running steps before halting. The earth shivered faintly under the moving weight but Tony welcomed it for once, helplessly waiting for some indication of where the other was. He wasn't about to lose this chance to be saved, to be taken back, or wherever they were heading out next.

"Tony," his name was repeated, although softly this time, and Tony felt a giant hand brush his hair, then his shoulder.

He reached out and grabbed onto it, feeling the thick skin of the Hulk's hand. "Are the others here?" he asked, remembering the sound of the engine once more.

"Hulk find Tony," the Hulk proclaimed, then without warning moved and picked Tony up into the giant arms. "Hulk keeps Tony safe."

As many objections as there may have been in the past, Tony simply clung to one giant arm the best he could as they started moving. He didn't know where they were going – if there was a plane nearby, perhaps a Quinjet, or if he had imagined the engine altogether.

"Tony!" Steve's voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with concern. Relief, too. Water splashed as he ran towards them, switching to solid ground just shortly before he was right there, in front of the Hulk. "May I take a look at him?" Steve asked the Hulk, obviously, his voice trembling faintly.

The Hulk let out a grunt that may have meant he didn't like it, but Tony felt himself being lowered – right into Steve's waiting arms. His feet hit the ground clumsily while Steve hugged him close, reminding Tony of the first day of his blindness when Steve and the others found him in the woods by his home in Malibu.

"Thank God," Steve murmured in his ear, and Tony felt like voicing some concerns at the crack in his voice. He didn't, however, because he didn't want to waste a second to hold onto Steve in return, unwilling to let go.

"Hulk find Tony," the Hulk declared once again, then stomped a few feet away.

"It's okay," Steve murmured, leaning back a little. Tony knew the other man was going to check him for injuries, but Tony didn't let himself be pushed very far.

"I waited," Tony said, voice still weak. "I didn't leave."

Steve's hands tightened where they were holding onto him. His breaths changed, too, like he was going to cry or go punch a hole into one of the concrete pipes Hulk hadn't smashed. "We've been looking for you for two days. It's been three since Natasha last saw you. The battle dragged out and afterwards, we couldn't find either of you. Then she showed up, after evading the aliens for half a day after trying to track their movements, and she…" Again Steve's hold on him tightened fractionally. It was going to leave bruises, but Tony didn't want to say anything that might make the other man let go of him. "She wasn't sure where she left you. It was dark when she took off, and…" A sharp inhale and an extremely slow exhale brought some control back into Steve's voice. "You're safe now."

Tony just nodded.

"Can you walk?" Steve asked next.

"I think so," Tony stated, frowning. "Why wouldn't I? I'm fine." However, when he tried taking one step to prove it, weakness overtook him and he sagged a little towards the ground. He hadn't felt so faint when lying down, but if it had really been three days, he supposed the thirst and hunger he had felt – and then hadn't anymore – were long overdue to be taken care of.

Steve didn't ask for permission when he lifted Tony into his arms. He took them across the water and up to the familiar smell of engines and fuel.

"He's okay, right?" Tony heard Clint call out.

"He had better be," Rhodey chimed in, moving closer as he talked. "We've been out here looking for him, day and night, for two goddamn days." He sounded mad, and Tony wondered what he had done wrong, but Steve was still holding onto him and Tony figured that whatever their problem was, it could wait.

"I'm feeling a bit cold," Tony confessed as Steve took him inside the plane – a Quinjet, Tony guessed. "And thirsty," he added. "Hungry, too."

"Bruce has just transformed back to himself," Thor's voice answered. "If you can wait a moment, he will make certain you are well."

"Let's get you out of these clothes," Steve decided, not waiting for Bruce to get his bearings.

Tony nodded numbly and allowed several hands to undress him, then re-dress him in blissfully warm, clean clothes. All that time he didn't hear Natasha's voice, and he tried listening for it, to make sure she was okay. "Where's Nat?" he asked finally, when Bruce had finally dragged himself over and was pushing an IV needle into Tony's arm. Tony knew he didn't need a drip as long as he got water to drink and food to eat, but it had sounded like a non-negotiable thing when Bruce asked for his arm.

"I'm here," Natasha replied from the other side of the plane by the sound of it. "I'm glad we found you." She didn't sound like herself, and not for the first time did Tony wonder if she had left him there to die on purpose.

"We're taking off," Clint called from the cockpit and no sooner did the ramp rise than the engines started, lifting them off the ground and into the air. Tony braced his feet against the floor, nursed the water bottle Steve had given him and tried telling himself he wasn't just going to wake up back in the pipe, dreaming of rescue.

Well, at least the prick in his arm where Bruce had stuck the needle was very real.

They didn't fly for very long, but Tony lost track of time at one point, possibly falling asleep for a little bit. When they landed, Bruce disconnected the drip but left the needle in his arm, clearly planning on giving him more fluids once they were inside whatever base or S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret lair they were staying at this time.

Tony walked this time, although Bruce kept supporting his weight. He lost track of the hallways and turns as soon as they got inside, and once they entered a room that was probably theirs, Tony was met by enthusiastic beeps from the bots. "Daddy's back," Tony called to them fondly, petting them as they came over before Bruce directed him to a nice, soft bed. Tony rolled onto it, sighing, feeling someone tugging off his shoes. His pants were next, then the long sleeved hoodie someone had pulled on him, and that was all he seemed to be required to take off before getting some rest.

"Sleep," Bruce urged, connecting another IV bag to the needle and taping the tube carefully to Tony's skin. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

"Feeling fantastic now," Tony claimed.

Bruce hummed and slid a hand up to run his fingers through Tony's hair at a pleasant, soothing pace.

"Where are the others?" Tony asked, eyes drifting shut although that didn't matter, but the others seemed to have a better idea when he was about to fall asleep if he used such a natural cue. Besides, just because he couldn't see didn't mean he could sleep with his eyes open.

"Most of us are here," Rhodey's voice replied.

"Aye," Thor threw in.

"Watching you sleep isn't considered creepy, right?" Clint asked, but his voice was unusually devoid of humor.

Somewhere, behind a wall or a closed door, a voice rose suddenly: "You just left him there!" It was Steve, unmistakably so.

Bruce's hand stilled for a moment, then continued, the pace different now; he was trying to distract Tony, and perhaps himself, from what was going on outside the room.

"I needed to know if there was a safe way for us to move on from that place," Natasha's voice replied, sharp and on the defense.

"You left him there, alone, defenseless," Steve went on, and he was finally letting that fury out that he had been holding in when he saw Tony. "I gave you one job to do –"

"What was I supposed to do, sit there and hold his hand while the Drones were flying around above us? I didn't know if anyone was coming for us. I didn't know if we could have gone back, either. He would have been too slow to drag around the enemy lines."

"You should have stayed with him," Steve spat. "No matter what. The enemy had three days to find him, to finish the job."

"I was going to go back for him. I told you that from the start," Natasha argued, although weakly, like she was starting to agree with Steve. "I would have gone back for him, but the enemy moved between us and forcing my way to him would have drawn their attention. I chose to come find you instead, as long as I had an opening."

"After which we had to use two days to find him again. He could have wandered off and we would still be searching for him. He could have gotten himself killed, alone and afraid, not knowing where the hell he was and who was coming after him first, us or them."

"Maybe next time you'll assign someone better equipped to protect him," Natasha snapped.

"Damn sure I will."

Tony tensed at the obvious anger in Steve's voice. He had never heard it before, not even during his and Steve's worst fights. Steve was upset about this and it was clearly affecting everyone else. "I was fine," Tony stated, although it wasn't exactly true. However, he wasn't going to admit he had been just as afraid as Steve was suggesting, sitting alone in that pipe, waiting, hoping, dreading…

"No, you weren't," Bruce answered, although softly, as if he had already mastered his anger. Perhaps letting the other guy out had given him some peace of mind.

"You found me," Tony tried another tactic. "That's the only thing that matters, right? We're back together and we'll keep it that way." He hesitated. "Unless, you know, you really want to leave me behind. Which is okay, but I would appreciate a heads up… I know it isn't exactly a cakewalk being around me these days."

"Shut up," Clint growled. "You're one of us; that hasn't changed. Natasha made the wrong call – the one more suited for her – but she's been regretting it ever since she realized she couldn't get back to you without putting you even more at risk. She's letting Cap chew her out so that he can let the pressure out. It was Steve's call to make her take you out of harm's way when the battle first started showing signs of getting out of hand, and he thinks it's on him that you were abandoned."

"Not abandoned," Tony corrected, now that he knew the others hadn't meant to leave him. "Just… lost, for a little bit." Bruce's fingers stilled and squeezed his hair for a little bit, and Tony wasn't sure whom he was trying to reassure more, himself or Tony.

A door opened and Tony listened to the light steps moving towards him. "I'm sorry," Natasha whispered, a lot closer than Tony had thought she was.

"I know," Tony replied, although he wasn't totally convinced yet. Knowing her and her past, the way she had learned to survive… In her world, people like Tony got left behind.

"I think Steve wants me to find somewhere else to sleep," she went on.

"Well, tough," Clint snorted. "I already called the couch and it has a place for you on it, too."

Tony wished he could have seen Natasha's answering look. "Thanks."

"Where's Steve?" Tony asked.

"Blowing off some steam, probably," Rhodey replied. "He'll join us when he's ready to be civil."

"I shall join him for a moment," Thor announced. "Get rest, my friends. Our next battle awaits us, perhaps sooner than we would like."

"Please don't say that," Clint begged but moved from wherever he had been sitting, probably willing to take the hint and get some rest. Tony knew how worn out they all used to be after a battle, and if they had spent two days post-battle looking for him… Rest was long overdue for all of them.

"Who's cuddling with me?" Tony asked, teasingly. "I'm still cold."

"No, you're not, but I'm going to join you," Bruce replied. Tony was secretly glad it was Bruce who got in bed with him, because he was still a little cold and after sitting three days alone in a cold pipe, he could use someone who liked closeness with lots of touching.

Rhodey clearly intended on finding somewhere else to sleep because he didn't volunteer to warm Tony's other side; perhaps there was another bed.

It made sense that at some time during the night, Steve slipped into bed behind Tony, warm and solid against his back. Tony wanted to tell him to stop worrying, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good and he was too tired to open his mouth anyway, instead going back to sleep as Steve's breaths fell into an easy, deep rhythm against his shoulder blade.

_to be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Faded - Technicolor

**Chapter 7: Faded / Technicolor**

* * *

**Day 142 of the Alien-Human War**

_The world is wrapped in a gray shade, as if he's staring at it all through a dark blanket thrown over his eyes._

_Shadows move, sharp one moment and blurry the next, hard to follow or take apart before they blend together with the background. Some of them appear familiar: bodies, reaching hands and slow gestures he cannot comprehend because the discoloration makes depth perception nigh impossible._

_He tries to squint but it makes no difference. The shadows remain, sharp and blurry in turns, and he longs for clarity, for someone to explain to him why it's so hard to comprehend what he's seeing._

_To explain to him why there's only shadows in the darkness._

Tony woke up with a violent start that would have usually prompted whoever was in bed with him to wake up and ask if he was okay. Not tonight: he became acutely aware that he was alone, the small military bunk feeling cold. He hadn't gone to sleep alone, and it was unlike Thor to just leave him once he fell asleep.

For an instant he listened for any alarming sounds but the others wouldn't just let him sleep through a fight. They would wake him up, dress him, then prepare him to hide or run or fight. One of them would stay with him.

Pushing himself up on his elbows, Tony tried to listen, and finally detected the sound of another's breaths. Not from the bunk he was in, but the other one on the opposite wall across the narrow space in between. The room had been so small Tony had no trouble learning it when he first entered it, and now he turned towards the sound, stilling his own breaths long enough to be certain who it was. "Steve?" he called out, because he could tell his breathing apart from everyone else's; a perfect set of super soldier lungs and all.

He heard a start, then shifting. "I'm here," Steve said, sleep instantly gone from his voice.

Tony didn't see shadows moving but he heard Steve leaving his bunk and then felt him slide into Tony's. His body was almost hot, banishing the coolness from Tony's body as he pressed close and enveloped Tony in his arms. "Where's Thor?" Tony asked because it bothered him a little.

"A call came in from the research base. They had some kind of accident and I told him to get over there, to make sure Jane was okay. It wasn't the aliens," Steve added, because that had been Tony's first thought. "Just some experiment gone wrong."

Tony nodded and pressed his face into Steve's shoulder. "You've been working out," he noted, still detecting the faint smell of sweat on his skin. The showers here needed repairs and the soap was pretty much odorless, making Steve's natural smell all the sharper.

"I tried showering but the water pressure dropped again," the other man replied. "Do I smell?"

"No," Tony shook his head a bit and burrowed closer to him. Steve was solid, warm and real; if Tony could have seen, Steve wouldn't have been just a shadow gesturing for him.

They lay there for a bit, both still awake, then eventually began drifting off, the bunk feeling a bit too crowded as it had with Thor when Tony first went to sleep, but it had been months since he had bothered to complain about such a thing. He would choose this a hundred times over being alone in the darkness, even if it made him weak and dependent on others; he could be strong and independent another day.

* * *

**Day 77 of the Alien-Human War**

_Tony finds himself standing in an atrium. He's not sure how he got there, but he feels like's he's been there a while. A glass roof extends over him and although he can't see the sun, it's clear it's close to midday, the bright light making the glass panels shine almost as if someone had showered them with glitter._

_Everything is bright and sunny, the warmth of it seeping into his skin, and the heavy smell of flora fills his nostrils. There's a garden filling almost all of the atrium, with elegantly cut trees and bushes, winding paths cutting across the greenery here and there._

_Tony steps onto the nearest path and his eyes track every flower petal he comes across._

_There's even a small bridge and a pond, small rivers leaving the larger body of water to disappear between the plants. Fish move around in the water, colorful and elegant. Tony leans on the bridge's railing, staring down, eyes tracking the small motions that send the fish shooting forward, never disturbing the water unless they swim too close to the surface._

_A butterfly floats through the air, getting Tony's attention, and a few flaps of its wings bring it sitting on the railing next to him. Its colors are brilliant, the sunlight almost making it sparkle, and although the beauty and peacefulness of the atrium should fill Tony with wonder and solitude, all he feels is an overwhelming weight pulling him down, gnawing at the beauty of the scenery around him._

_The butterfly takes off, flying low over the water. One of the fish jumps after it, but the butterfly manages to evade its untimely demise, flying higher and higher towards the glass roof, into the sunlight._

_Tony looks up, following it with his gaze for as long as he can, and suddenly feels trapped._

_There's something he cannot escape, even here…_

He stirred, the dream cut short, but Tony had the feeling he had seen all he needed to. Shifting, he adjusted his position in the large arm chair someone had found and dragged into Bruce's lab in their current base in Maryland.

"Did you dream?" Bruce asked. He was at his desk by the sound of it, clicking away at the computer, working.

People kept implying Tony should get to work, too. He did work, sometimes, but it was slow going whenever he had to take information in because he had to rely on other people's – or J.A.R.V.I.S.'s – explanations on the subject.

"Yeah," he said to answer Bruce's question. He blinked, but obviously it meant nothing. Just because he felt his eyelids pass across his damaged eyes… "Is it weird that I see when I'm dreaming?" Tony asked the other man when he could no longer resist voicing the question.

"No," Bruce replied. "Your eyes may be damaged but you've spent most of your life gazing at things and your brain remembers that." He stopped talking for a bit and Tony expected he had gone back to his current project. Instead, Bruce spoke up after what may have been instead a thoughtful pause: "What did you dream about? I can tell it was different from your usual dreams."

The 'usual dreams' being visions that bordered on nightmares, most of the time filled with nothing but the darkness Tony already saw whenever he was awake.

"It was beautiful," Tony confessed. "Colors and smells that made sense… So _much_ color that I probably knew it was a dream to begin with. Then I started feeling this… like guilt, you know? Like I wasn't supposed to be seeing it; like I was being punished for having such a nice dream for a change."

"That's your sub-consciousness," Bruce answered, sounding sickeningly certain. "You need to let go of that notion and maybe the dark dreams will end."

"Let go of what?" Tony snapped. "There's nothing more to let go of."

"Maybe it's the anger."

Tony guessed Bruce knew a thing or two about anger. He knew that in the last month the others had tried to help in any way they could. Some days Tony found it impossible to accept their counsel and words of wisdom because none of them knew what it was like, being deprived of his ability to see while the rest of him was healthy. The others had become a constant reminder of his injury after Pepper's funeral – a reminder that Tony could do nothing alone; he could not find food, or shelter, or a safe place to sleep. He would not know where to look for clothes, nor would he be able to rest as much as he was now, with or without the nightmares.

Most days, Tony let go of his frustration and disappointment, allowing another person to help him, to guide him, and make sure he stayed alive. The Avengers were his team, his friends, and he had promised them he would let them help him.

Only, as days went by and Tony was no closer to figuring out why the aliens had attacked him, he wondered how long it would be before the others would just do as they had been asked to, several times, and left Tony in a facility that could look after his needs.

Tony had once said he would understood if they did it – that it might be for the best – but he didn't want that. Even when he was a burden, he was still there, helping to fight the war…

_Helping to fight the war._ What a load of crap that thought was. Tony was nothing more than a hindrance, something to be dragged from one base to the next; a warm body to sleep next to at night, mostly because he needed it.

He wished he could do more, to give more.

_"Dr. Banner,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. called out through the room's speakers, _"Captain Rogers would like to remind you that we will be departing for New York City within six hours."_

"We'll be ready to go by then," Bruce replied, evidently meaning Tony as well.

"J?" Tony called out.

_"Yes, sir?"_

"Seeing as we're going to be nearby, how about you start prepping Mark 50. It would be at the Tower, if the building's still standing."

_"Indeed, sir. The armor will be ready for deployment when you arrive."_

Tony could feel Bruce's eyes on him. "What?" he asked.

"You're not thinking of getting into the armor?" They hadn't talked about it, not really. For the last month Tony had been adapting to his blindness, and there hadn't been time to actually consider getting back in the suit. Of course Tony had thought about it while he was on his own, sitting in that pipe, unable to contact J.A.R.V.I.S. because they had left the room so suddenly he hadn't grabbed anything to take with him. The idea of going to a familiar place, even when it would be just another S.H.I.E.L.D. base, drove Tony towards making some kind of decision when it came to Iron Man.

"No," Tony finally replied. "In case we get attacked again, I'll feel better if I have an armor standing by." It wasn't that he didn't trust the others to protect him, but having the armor there would also help the Avengers feel like Tony was being protected even if they weren't constantly with him.

Bruce made an affirmative sound. "Who knows, maybe we'll have time to stop by the Tower itself. There are some things I would like to take with me."

"Sounds like a plan," Tony agreed. Who knew, perhaps being in his own workshop, even if only for a little while, would give him the boost he needed to start working on something. It was high time Tony started pulling his own weight.

_to be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Fighter Cripple

**Chapter 8: Fighter / Cripple**

* * *

**Day 168 of the Alien-Human War**

_"Sir, the final results of the water toxins have arrived. I am compiling high-lights for you."_

Before, Tony would have just asked to see all the data, but now he nodded and waited for his AI to give him the gist of the newest results. This wasn't their first approach to analyzing the poison the aliens were pumping into the Earth's waters, nor would it probably be the last. Even the day Tony got blinded, they had been working on figuring out whether the aliens were terraforming or if it was a long-term weapon aimed at the Earth's population.

Several more alien corpses had been recovered in the months since Tony lost his vision. Most data had been inconclusive when it came to the toxins in the water and he wondered if these results would be any different.

Perhaps they were looking at all this the wrong way…

J.A.R.V.I.S. began talking again, rattling off numbers and percentages of known and unknown elements, then went on to list various theories that were currently being tossed around. Tony listened, his attention slipping every now and then, much to his irritation, and if J.A.R.V.I.S. noticed, the AI said nothing about it.

_"The results seem, for now, inconclusive,"_ the AI summed up.

"Big surprise," Tony muttered. He tossed his head back and blinked, eyes aimed at the ceiling he could not see. He tried imagining the irritatingly blue sky, fluffy white clouds and somewhere amidst them the alien space ships. Maybe one was above him right now. And, far beyond the clouds and any other flying objects, the alien Flag Ship hovered somewhere within Earth's gravitational pull, watching, waiting…

Category 6; something that no one had seen in person. Tony remembered the blurry satellite photos and the first brave attempts to attack the orbiting ship. There were reasons why humanity had left it alone, and it had nothing do with the excuses that the war was being fought down here at sea level, not in space.

"Maybe that's it," Tony mused.

_"Sir?"_

"Is Hades still operational?"

_"Indeed, sir."_

"Do we have current data on the Flag Ship?"

_"The enemy's Category 6 ship is currently located above Greenland."_

"Fantastic," Tony decided. "Remotely deploy Hades and send it up to check on the Flag Ship."

_"Deploying Mark 54, sir. May I remind you that any aircraft, missile or manned space station that has made the attempt has been unable to get closer than 30 miles from the Category 6 ship without being destroyed?"_

"I'm aware. Take Mark 54 as close as you can. Cloak it before the final approach."

_"Very well, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.

While the AI worked on deploying the sub-orbital suit, Tony leaned forward in his chair, listening for a few seconds. "Dummy," he called out then – instantly getting a shrill reply. "Bring me the helmet."

The bot hurried to do his bidding, bumping into furniture only twice before the lightweight helmet was placed in Tony's lap. His fingers closed around it as Dummy let go, and he rotated it to the correct position. Tony didn't put it on just yet, instead waiting for J.A.R.V.I.S. to update him on the progress of Mark 54.

_"Mark 54, armor designation 'Hades', has just launched from your armory in North Dakota,"_ the AI finally announced. _"All systems are operational."_

Tony nodded and shifted the helmet in his hands then aligned it, signaled it to open up and put it on his head. "Prepare for remote HUD connection."

_"Sir?"_

"Take me for a spin, J," Tony stated and took a deep breath as the light helmet closed around his skull, trapping half his head inside it just seconds before the implants came to life.

It took him a lot less time than in the beginning to become acclimated once his brain began to receive visual input, and Tony stood up, slowly but surely making his way across the room to where the Mark 52 armor was standing; after Mark 50 was destroyed in the battle in Detroit, everyone had agreed that Tony should keep one of his suits available to him, just in case. It was lucky he had been developing new suits before the war started and had had time to work on a few more even after the aliens began their invasion because he certainly wasn't working on anything new in his current condition.

Tony reached out for the armor's helmet, gently tugging it free of the rest of the suit. He heard the pieces moving to release the helmet and even saw the faint pulses of energy traveling near the suit's surface, relaying information between active components as the implants translated it to his visual cortex.

Taking the helmet with him, Tony moved over to one of the work tables, selecting a few cables that would help him transfer energy from the suit into the helmet in order to keep the HUD online and at full power.

_"Mark 54 has reached the optimal altitude to begin the final ascent,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. notified him.

"Let it hang there for a bit. Activate the cloaking surfaces and signal disruptors," Tony ordered, grabbing the necessary tools and moving back to the armor, connecting the helmet directly to the arc reactor.

_"Waiting for your command, sir."_

With a deep breath, Tony slid the armor's helmet on top of the one already hugging his skull, feeling them both tighten slightly. The air smelled different – cleaner, although the filters weren't working perfectly when the helmet wasn't connected to the rest of the suit. It calmed him a little, and Tony moved to sit down on the edge of a table the Mark 52 armor was standing next to. "Connect Mark 52's HUD to Mark 54's; real time data and visuals, if you would, please."

_"In progress, sir."_

The HUD flickered, going dark for a moment and making Tony feel like someone had just turned off the lights everywhere in the world. Then, just as quickly, a slightly different set of visuals rose to meet him, spreading around him as his brain caught up with the graphics and data streaming in. It was almost like standing in his old workshop, surrounded by holographic displays; he needed only to reach out his hands to seize control of them, to move them and manipulate them.

What lay outside Hades' HUD came to him more slowly, as if his eyes were adjusting to look beyond what was right in front of him. The faint shapes made little sense at first until Tony realized he was looking at clouds. Instead of fluffy shapes, though, he saw areas of frozen crystals of evaporated water and varying shades of other chemicals, their heat signature separating the clouds easily from the air around them.

_"I am calculating a delay of approximately 1.395 seconds between Mark 54's HUD and the implants, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice gently lured Tony back from becoming mesmerized with the fact that he could _see the wind_ – something he hadn't paid attention to during his first battle in the suit after the inclusion of the implants. It was easy to get lost in the drifting, twisting, smooth curves of the air as it traveled around him – around Mark 54.

"Take us up," Tony ordered, forcing himself to pay attention to what was important.

J.A.R.V.I.S. made no comment that Tony wasn't physically 'there'. It felt like it, the visuals too real for a few seconds as Hades aligned itself and engaged the main thrusters for a controlled ascension into a sub-orbital trajectory. Tony fully expected to feel the armor tremble around him, but he was still seated on the edge of the table in the lab, and the HUD didn't shiver along with the suit. The image did blink and re-adjust a few times, though, when a higher altitude was reached, but Tony let it happen, taking deep breaths to keep the light nausea away. After all, every time the HUD blinked it felt like someone tapped a 'reboot' switch in his visual cortex, which had a rather unpleasant connection to his stomach and vestibular system.

_"Approaching enemy vessel, Category 6,"_ the AI announced after a moment, prompting Tony to focus on the HUD despite the occasional, brief freezing that occurred. He knew it had to do with the distance between Mark 52 and Mark 54, not to mention the effort to cloak them from the Flag Ship.

Before his eyes could have actually seen it, the suit's scanners spotted the Flag Ship, relaying the information to Tony. An image was painted in his mind in fine graphics and thermal radiation imaging, with engineering details he enjoyed taking apart in his mind: the alien ship's engines with a fine output to control its path orbiting the Earth, as well as the machines producing a protective energy shield Tony was still trying to miniaturize for use in his suits.

_"Sir, the suit is nearing the minimum safety distance,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. told him. With the helmet and connected Heads-Up Displays, it was hard to tell where exactly the AI's voice was coming from – further dragging Tony into the illusion that he was floating in space.

"Is the enemy showing any signs of having spotted the suit?" Tony asked.

_"Not yet, sir."_

"Keep me posted."

Tony gave a few murmured verbal commands to align Mark 54 as its trajectory took it closer to the Flag Ship. "Back up the images and readings we're getting, in case we get shot down without a warning," he noted, seeing as there was a very limited collection of data on the Category 6 ship since it was unapproachable on the best of days and it was entirely possible the protective energy shield skewed the readings they had. Hades' instruments were fine-tuned for a job like this, though, and Tony followed the stream of data the armor was collecting.

_"Mark 54 has now passed the 30-mile safety limit; still no sign of activity from the Category 6 ship."_

"What are they doing, sleeping on the job?" Tony asked, wishing he could frown for show but grinning instead: his tech was so much better than the aliens' and he wished to go over there and rub it in their faces. After months of struggling and scraping by, retreating from fights when there was no sense to push forward, and then losing his eyesight, Tony was ready for something to gloat about, and this was it. "Should have killed me when they had the chance," he mused.

_"Sir?"_

"The aliens."

_"Ah. You are not going to do anything foolhardy, are you?"_

"I'm not in the suit. How is anything I order it to do from the safety of this lab foolhardy?"

_"While that is a good point, sir, may I offer an alternative point of view?"_

"If it makes you happy."

J.A.R.V.I.S. made an almost scoffing sound, but went on smoothly: _"Mark 54 is currently your only armor capable of prolonged sub-orbital flight. Also, should the enemy discover that you are within twenty miles of their most protected ship, they may re-evaluate the efforts they must take to eliminate you."_

"Like I said, they should have killed me when they had the chance," Tony snorted.

_"Be that as it may, sir, our current trajectory will take Mark 54 no closer than seventeen miles from the target, and I advise you to keep it that way."_

"Spoilsport… Can I at least fire a goodbye-missile?"

_"With the energy shield up, I doubt it will have any effect – other than potentially compromising Mark 54."_

"I'm starting to think you like the suit better than me."

_"It is a very fine suit, sir. Also, seeing as you have them in limited quantity at the current time, it may be wise to not send them on suicide missions."_

Tony let his lips quirk, just a little – knowing that J.A.R.V.I.S. would catch it, seeing as the HUD interface allowed the AI to follow his micro-expressions to keep up with his commands. "I don't think it matters what we do up there right now," he stated, but knew that might not be true.

_"Captain Rogers and Colonel Rhodes disagree; they are still of the opinion that the attack on you was an involuntary demonstration of a threat the aliens felt they had to eliminate. Had the acid worked as it should have, without Extremis' intervention, it would have completely destroyed your brain."_

There was that. Tony didn't want to think about it too much on most days because he didn't remember anything he'd done worthy of being a risk to the aliens – unless it was something insignificant and easy to overlook. Like the Flag Ship, hovering above the planet but having no crucial part to play in the war itself.

As he gazed at the gigantic ship, he wondered if this was the question that had been haunting him. Only, he was not sure it was the answer. Even if they managed to destroy the Flag Ship, it would not stop the aliens already on the planet. But, they hadn't known the Chitauri would fall when they closed the portal between their side of the universe and Earth, either…

A small icon appeared within his line of sight, on Hades' HUD, letting Tony know that the suit was preparing to drop out of sub-orbit and head back down. There was no stirring from the enemy ship and he decided not to poke the anthill to see if he could make that change.

"Make sure Mark 54 isn't followed, then take it back to the armory," Tony ordered. "Make back-ups of the data and send it to appropriate research teams for analysis."

_"Very well, sir."_

Tony kept sitting there, not removing the HUD, tracking Hades' descent. The sky looked almost layered with different levels of radiation and changes in temperature. It was like plunging into the ocean, over and over again, each one a different shade and texture than the last.

When the suit re-aligned to take a detour and make sure no one followed it back to North Dakota, Tony finally told J.A.R.V.I.S. to disconnect the HUDs and bring him back to Mark 52's helmet. The change was fluid, only interrupted by a brief lights-out effect, and Tony felt like he was coming back to himself, no longer engrossed in Hades' progress.

He wondered, briefly, that should he have become paralyzed as well as blind in the aftermath of the attack in Malibu, would he have done this more often: connecting and living through the armors –

"Tony?"

A voice that wasn't his or J.A.R.V.I.S.'s jarred him almost painfully out of the moment, and Tony turned his head, spotting someone in the doorway. The HUD instantly pointed out the shield and Tony tried to relax a little, seeing as it was only Steve – who was currently being held from properly entering by the bots.

"Come on in," Tony welcomed – a well-concealed order for Dummy and You to let him pass. The bots rolled back and to the side, and Tony wondered if they had reasoned on their own that Tony shouldn't be disturbed, or if his AI had told them to keep Steve at the door.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, walking over. He was carrying his shield but wasn't dressed for battle, which meant this wasn't a farewell before he took the other Avengers to battle – especially when Tony was now capable of joining them.

"Stretching my legs," Tony started then looked down. He still sat on the edge of the table, his legs hanging over the floor. "Metaphorical legs," he corrected.

"What does that mean?" the blond inquired.

"Aren't you even trying to guess?"

Steve let out a breath that suggested he was ready to snap at Tony – or worse, preparing to swallow his pride and go along with Tony's games, which had happened a lot after he had gone blind. It was probably meant to make Tony feel better and put him into a slightly less hostile environment, but he didn't need that kind of coddling anymore.

"I took one of the armors for a spin, remotely," Tony explained.

Steve nodded but also let out a sound of understanding – as if he wasn't used to stopping with the vocal cues whenever Tony was using the implants. "How was it?" he asked.

"Enlightening, I hope," Tony confessed, slowly sliding off the table to stand on his feet, getting used to the different stance before releasing Mark 52's helmet from around his head, the HUD disappearing a bit too abruptly. Vertigo overtook him, momentarily, as the implants adjusted, and a hand shot out to steady him. "I'm fine," Tony managed, settling the helmet down in the other man's waiting hands before he dropped it – which was a little off because he still felt one of Steve's hands on his arm.

Once the implants adjusted and the light helmet took over, he realized he had placed the helmet in Steve's hands while the hand steadying him was one of Mark 52's. It was strange, looking at the armor with its head missing, but he moved to correct that by taking the helmet from Steve, removing the wires and sticking the helmet where it belonged.

"Better," he murmured.

_"Indeed,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied through the armor's speakers. _"Perhaps you should sit down, sir, and deactivate the implants."_ It was a gentle hint that his brain was heating up with the stress and seeing as he had finished his mission, Tony let out a disappointed sigh and slid his hands up to remove the helmet, the world going dark again. Belatedly he thought he maybe should have taken one last look at Steve, but it wasn't the same as it had been before so it didn't matter.

Perhaps one day, they would find a way to simulate a human vision exactly, but for now, he would make due with what he had, when he could.

"If you want to go flying, I'm sure Rhodey and Thor would gladly join you," Steve stated as Tony made his way to a chair he had sat in before piloting his brain into space. Sort of.

"It wasn't about that," Tony argued, finding the chair and managing to land his ass in the middle of the seat.

"What, then?"

"To take a look at the Flag Ship," Tony admitted.

Steve was silent for a fairly long moment. "You took one of your suits into space?" he finally asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Tony shrugged, tapping his fingers against one another in a thoughtful rhythm. "Got pretty close, too."

"Did they shoot at you?"

"No," Tony felt like rolling his eyes – he did, too, although he wasn't sure if it actually worked that well. It felt right to him, at least. "I went in cloaked. They didn't shoot at me, I didn't shoot at them, and I got a bunch of really great pictures and readings that the scientists are going to pore over for the next few months, I'm sure."

Steve continued his silence and it was starting to irk Tony.

"Nothing happened," he snapped when Steve had been quiet long enough.

"Yeah, I heard it the first time."

"Then why the silent treatment?"

"I'm thinking."

"Of?"

"You. I think you're ready."

"For what?" Tony asked, leaning back in the chair. He would have been glowering at Steve by now, before, and he itched to put the helmet back on just to be able to look at the temperature changes on his skin, to get a hint of his mood.

"To fight," Steve finally stated, like the words weighed a ton on his chest.

"I don't… understand. I mean, I've already fought, once, after the implants – or did you miss that? A big explosion took place right after I swooped in to save your asses, so it shouldn't have been hard to miss."

Steve chuckled. "I noticed. I just wasn't sure whether you were in the right place, emotionally, to join us out there. None of us wanted to rush it."

Tony tried glowering, just in case he got the expression right and managed to aim his gaze at Steve. "I never stopped being ready," he snapped. "It was just a bit… harder," he managed, then took a moment to really look at it, the facts laid bare in his mind's eye. Tony had been struggling for months with the basic things, to come to terms with the loss of his vision and to find his place in the midst of his team. He had almost lost himself, literally and figuratively, more than once, and the others had fought not to smother him with their concern and the need to protect him.

Until now, Tony had told himself his place was on the sidelines until he could be of use again, as if his will to get out there and fight had been diminished when he could no longer see the enemy. It had perhaps been healthy because he most certainly had not been ready – but today, when he took the initiative and had J.A.R.V.I.S. fly one of his suits into space to take a look at the Flag Ship, it felt like the game had finally changed.

"I hate it when you're right," Tony told Steve.

He could not see it, but he was certain he sensed Steve's smile on his face like the sun coming out from behind a thick veil of clouds.

* * *

**Day 81 of the Alien-Human War**

Their arrival in New York City was smooth and without trouble. The only downside was that they landed directly at one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. bases in the area, whereas Tony had hoped he and Bruce would at least get a chance to go to the Tower.

"We could just sneak out and go," Tony suggested as the other Avengers were busy getting settled. Whether the base was short on accommodations or someone had made an exception for their group, they appeared to be sharing their quarters. There were three bunk beds against either wall, leaving very little room in the middle – most of which was taken up by their gear and the bots. To be exact, there was one less bed than they needed, but seeing as someone tended to sleep with Tony, no matter the narrow bunks, it didn't matter.

"I'll see if we can make that happen," Bruce promised Tony as he moved by him, and Tony heard one of the bots follow him, probably trying to be of use.

Tony nodded absently and listened to the small pieces of conversations around him, then frowned. "Where's Rhodey?" He hadn't heard his friend's voice for a bit – nor had he heard the sounds of the War Machine armor, either.

"I think he went to see if someone could check his suit for damage from the latest battles," Steve replied.

"I could…" Tony started, then shut his mouth. While he could repair a suit even without his eyesight – no bragging necessary – he knew it wasn't time-effective or necessary as long as the damages were minor enough to be handled by someone who didn't understand the design of the suit.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. piped up in Tony's earpiece, _"Colonel Rhodes is currently in the middle of an argument with his senior officer. It would appear to concern you and Colonel Rhodes."_

"Are you eavesdropping?" Tony smiled. He hadn't known J.A.R.V.I.S. had already uploaded his programming to this particular base, seeing as S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't approve of that kind of thing on most days without Tony getting difficult.

_"I am listening through the War Machine armor,"_ the AI explained.

"Patch me through," Tony ordered and pressed his hand to his ear as J.A.R.V.I.S. connected him to the ongoing discussion.

_"Sir, with all due respect, I've made up my mind,"_ Rhodey was saying.

_"The choice is not yours alone, Colonel. You are still in the service of the Air Force –"_

_"I'm affiliating myself with the Avengers, who are one of our greatest allies in this war. They may yet hold the key to victory, and I do not see how assisting them is doing a disservice to my country."_

_"The Avengers are good for morale, for sure, and an asset in this war, but I know those reasons you just gave me are a smokescreen to hide your actual motive."_

"Who's the stiff?" Tony asked J.A.R.V.I.S., referring to the older man speaking with Rhodey.

_"Major General Bryson of USAF, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. replied at once. _"He is visiting with the sole purpose of talking to Colonel Rhodes –"_

"To get him to return to the fold," Tony rolled his eyes then closed them to concentrate on the ongoing argument the War Machine armor was relaying to him.

_"Tony Stark is my friend – has been before I became an airman. That has nothing to do with what I think is the right thing to do, to win this war and to protect the people,"_ Rhodey stated, voice like ice ready to crack and swallow his opponent down into the cold darkness beneath.

General Bryson's reply wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy, either; clearly the man didn't like being refused: _"I understand your sentiment, Colonel: you were not there when your friend got injured, but while the loss of Mr. Stark's support weighs heavy on us all –"_

_"We didn't lose him, sir. He's getting back in the fight, soon. As I've told you, the aliens attacked him for a reason."_

_"Have you discovered this reason, yet?"_

_"No, sir, but I expect we will, soon."_

_"Listen to yourself. Stark is a cripple – worse than a cripple, because we cannot stick a prosthetic on him to replace a missing limb and make him carry his weight. He's slowing down the war effort and tying down the War Machine armor. We've given you time to recover and lend him your support, but we need you back on active duty –"_

_"You think I've been sitting here, twiddling my thumbs?"_ Rhodey snapped, and Tony could tell he was losing his cool. _"I've been working with the military, every chance I've got. Everyone knows we're at war, on a global scale, and War Machine has his part to play. He's just playing it here, with the Avengers."_

_"You may be piloting the armor, Colonel, but from now on you will do it where the command deems it necessary. Otherwise we will be forced to find another pilot to –"_

_"The War Machine armor was entrusted to me, personally. Tony would have refused Air Force access to _his_ armor, but instead he chose to make its use conditional on my continued piloting. The armor's staying with me, and I'm staying here, where I'm needed and where I can make a _difference_. Sir,"_ Rhodey added, not even close to trying to make his statement less insubordinate.

Tony felt the tension flee from his body where it had been growing for a bit. He trusted Rhodey – had trusted the original Mark II to his use. Everything Rhodey said was spot on because no one else was trustworthy enough to pilot one of his armors should Rhodey ever choose to step down from being War Machine, or however else they would re-brand the armor. Tony hadn't thought he actually needed to tell the military all that again because he had been pretty straightforward about it the first time, after the whole Iron Patriot and A.I.M. debacle.

_"You are being given an order, Colonel,"_ Major Bryson tried to reason with Rhodey – or force him to bend backwards and return home with his tail between his legs. Tony knew that wasn't going to happen. Threatening to take the armor away from him was a surefire way to turn Rhodey into a prickly bear, and anyone who thought it a good idea to poke at that bear in any given situation was in for a nasty surprise.

_"We're fighting an alien invasion all over the world,"_ Rhodey stated, voice flat. _"The Avengers have the power to do more damage than most carefully executed military attacks I've seen. Tony is getting better, will continue to get better, and whether he does or doesn't, his place is with the Avengers – as is mine for the time being. You can put that in your report,"_ Rhodey finished, then left, and Tony was fairly certain the armor followed him – which wasn't something that happened unless J.A.R.V.I.S. was present in the armor because War Machine's current interface wasn't as sophisticated as the one in Tony's own armors, and Rhodey had no interest in a backseat driver.

Tony straightened in his place on the bed, paying a bit more attention to his whereabouts again. His team was still moving around and it sounded like the bots were helping with gear check-ups; they couldn't do much, but sometimes pointing a light or holding onto something was enough, and they could do that without problems.

It didn't take long before the door opened to a busy hallway and Rhodey walked in – followed by the armor. The door closed an instant later, cutting off the sounds of the people passing by their room.

Tony waited patiently although it didn't take more than three seconds for Rhodey to walk over to him and sit by him on the bed.

"Did you hear that?" Rhodey asked.

"Hear what?" Tony questioned innocently.

"The conversation I just had with the Major General," Rhodey clarified. "I figured J.A.R.V.I.S. was playing house in my armor when its helmet moved to look at the General, so I thought he might have told you what was going on."

Tony nodded and played with his hands, stretching his fingers and popping joints. "It's nice to hear the Air Force thinks so fondly of me," he replied at length.

Rhodey leaned closer to him, bumping their shoulders together. "I don't think like that," he reassured Tony, voice dropping lower. No one else was talking, which meant they might be listening to their conversation. "I'm going to stay right here, with you, until… Until something comes up, or I need to be somewhere else."

"They want to stick me in a hospital somewhere," Tony retorted.

"They've wanted to do that since day one, but we're not letting them," Rhodey promised. "You're worth so much more, and just because they can't see it…"

"But I haven't figured it out!" Tony snapped, shifting his head to aim his eyes in the direction Rhodey's face might be. "I don't know why the aliens attacked me and tried to kill me. I might never figure it out."

"You will," Rhodey told him. "I'm sure of it. I know you – have known you for such a long time – and you always come out on top."

Tony had several replies to that, starting with the fact that he hadn't been able to save the woman he loved and he counted that as a huge, gaping loss, but he took what he could from Rhodey's conviction and leaned against him, nodding. "Did you get someone to take a look at the armor?" he asked instead.

"No, and I don't think I'm going to," Rhodey groused. "Not before I'm sure General Bryson is gone and done giving me orders I'm not going to follow."

"You had an argument with your superior?" Steve asked from somewhere in the room.

"Yeah."

"Didn't go well, I take it," Natasha guessed.

"They want me back in their part of the war, making it sound like I've abandoned them and taken their best weapon with me to joyride with you guys."

"That's pretty much what you did," Tony piped up.

"Maybe, but I'm doing more good here than trying to put out fires elsewhere," Rhodey decided. "I know I can help, wherever I am, but there would come a time when War Machine wouldn't be enough and I would still worry about you," he finished, voice dropping again, one of his hands gently grasping Tony's. "You're not a cripple," he added, as if he needed to say it.

"I would welcome a prosthetic, if there was one," Tony volunteered.

"Give it time," Bruce said, not for the first time, and Tony wondered how much time was 'enough'. Extremis wasn't doing anything in the way of fixing his eyes – not without some tweaking – and Tony wasn't yet confident he was able to make the necessary adjustments to start re-programming Extremis in order to try and find a way for it to regenerate his eyes and the other damaged parts inside his skull.

"You'll figure it out," Rhodey told him, squeezed his hand and then got up. "How about J.A.R.V.I.S. and I tell you what's wrong with my armor and you tell us how to fix it?"

"Sounds like a plan," Tony agreed and lay back on the bed, seeing as it didn't matter what position he was in; all he needed to do was to listen and then use his brain and explain things in a manner that would make sense to Rhodey.

They spent the next few hours making minor repairs to Rhodey's armor. Tony got frustrated every ten minutes or so, getting up and shoving his way to the armor to feel his way around _'because he could do a better job of it even when blind'_, but they got the most pressing problems sorted out and Tony was glad he could do at least that much. It kept him busy, too, which was one of the worst things about being blind: there was so little he could do.

Clint had told him to learn Braille, but Tony had so far refused; it would have been a step closer to defeat and admitting that he might never be able to see again. If he ventured too far down that road, he might forget he ever held onto the hope that his condition wasn't permanent. On the other hand, Bruce had said it would be a good brain exercise for them both, so Tony was considering the whole Braille thing just to keep himself stimulated.

They ventured out to eat in a canteen on base once Tony and Rhodey were finished. Knowing how uncomfortable Tony was about eating in public, the team decided to grab some food and head back to their room. They were standing in the queue, Steve using his height and superior eyesight to inform Tony what they were having for dinner, when someone walked over to them, quickly and purposefully.

"Agent Hill," Steve said, cutting off his food description at 'rye bread and butter'. "This is a surprise."

"I need you to assemble, now," the agent said, brisk as usual. Tony imagined he felt her gaze sweep over him, then past him, as if he was of no significance to her.

"We're all here," Clint pointed out.

"An enemy force has been detected in Washington. We need you there to engage the aliens while we proceed with evacuations," agent Hill explained.

"I thought all the key personnel had long since been evacuated?" Rhodey asked.

"Most of them have been, but you don't move a mountain in a day," Hill replied.

"Generally it's not advisable to move a mountain at all," Tony noted.

"You should prepare for immediate departure," Hill went on as if Tony hadn't spoken at all.

"Of course," Steve agreed, then nudged Tony's arm. "Do you want to grab something to eat before we leave?"

"I'll be fine," Tony promised.

"I'm sure they won't mind if we cut the line to get you something to eat," Steve reassured him.

"I can't have Captain America getting resentful looks because of me," Tony mocked. "It would be unprofessional, to put you in that sort of position. Besides, we have something to eat back at the room, right?"

"Nutrition bars are meant for prolonged combat situations," Natasha answered him. "They're hardly a proper diet if there's actual food available."

"I'll get Tony something to eat," Bruce promised. "I don't need all that much time to prepare," he added ruefully.

"Just change to your worst pair of pants," Tony grinned, then followed Steve out of the queue and back to their room, trying to keep track of where they were going but failing more often than he would have liked, even when they had come that way once already.

Back in their room, Tony sat down on the bed he had chosen for himself and listened to the Avengers bustle around: zippers were drawn, belts tightened, protective gear strapped on. Steve's shield banged against a wall a few times, the sound faint but distinct, and then Rhodey did something to test the suit, the whirs and shifts of mechanical parts an almost soothing undertone in the commotion.

Bruce joined them when everyone else was almost done suiting up. Tony smelled the food and allowed the scientist a chance to explain to him what exactly he was going to be eating. Tony knew from experience that the food would be almost tasteless, made in large quantities from easily stored ingredients – or in a few rare cases, something fresh that needed to be eaten before it went bad. Today wasn't one of those days, apparently, and Tony picked with some resentment at the sandwich Bruce had put together for him. He was hungry, though, and regular meals were not so common these days that he would turn up his nose at it.

"The bots will stay with you," Bruce said unnecessarily, sounding a little out of breath; he must have taken Tony's advice and changed into a pair of pants that might just survive the battle – or if they didn't, it wasn't a huge loss. "Is J.A.R.V.I.S. installed in this base?"

"No, but they've got really good reception here so he'll be hanging around," Tony replied, tapping his ear suggestively. "I'll be fine," he added, although he didn't necessarily feel great about being left on his own. However, the bots would be with him, which was a lot better than most of the other alternatives.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Steve promised.

"I'm sure J.A.R.V.I.S. will keep you updated on the fight," Rhodey added and came over long enough to squeeze Tony's shoulder. "Don't go wandering around on your own."

Why he would think Tony would go wandering around a base at which they had just arrived, Tony didn't know. He didn't bother voicing his opinion, however, knowing that the others were gearing towards battle and didn't need a distraction that might prove fatal. "Give 'em hell," Tony encouraged.

"Aye," Thor agreed. "Let us go, for we shall return faster that way."

One by one they walked out, Rhodey bringing up the rear after getting in his armor. As the door closed, Tony felt a bit alone, but Dummy and You decided to roll over to him then, as if sensing he wanted company. Tony feigned disinterest, but eventually decided to check the bots for exterior damages, feeling around them with his fingers, one inch and screw at a time.

_"Sir, would you like live updates from the battle?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked through the earpiece after a while.

"They aren't there yet, are they?"

_"No, sir."_

"Well… let me know if something drastic happens; I don't need a blow-by-blow."

_"Very well, sir. I assume you don't wish to log in to the team's comm frequency, either?"_

Tony sighed but resisted the temptation. He felt left-out as it was; he didn't need to make it worse. "See if you can do a remote installation of your visitation sub-program into the base's system. The transition between S.H.I.E.L.D. bases should start getting smoother by now." That task would keep the AI busy for a bit, with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s firewalls in the way.

_"Alternatively, you could just ask Director Fury for permission to have the visitation sub-program installed at their facilities in order to make you and the Avengers' periods of residence easier."_

"Like that's going happen," Tony snorted.

_"We are at war, sir, and the Avengers are, to use a crude description, the strongest weapon humanity has to battle the aliens. Director Fury most certainly sees it in that light and should not find your request unreasonable."_

Tony debated it. Perhaps if the mission in D.C. went well, he would try a less sneaky approach.

In the meanwhile, with the bots checked out to his satisfaction, Tony laid back on the bed, trying to relax. He needed to get used to this for as long as he was unable to join the others. How could he, though? He would only get in the way or be left behind – or require someone to keep an eye on him, to keep him safe. His place wasn't on the field anymore.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. spoke up suddenly, with a far more urgent tone, _"there are people approaching your room."_

"Someone I know?" Tony asked.

_"No."_

"What do they want?"

_"It is… unclear."_

Just then there was a knock, and Tony heard someone open the door. "Mr. Stark," an unfamiliar female voice called out. Not a monotone agent, he could tell. "Would you come with us?" she requested next.

Tony sat up slowly, turning his face towards the door although he could not see it or her – or what lay beyond. "Why?"

"I will explain on the way."

Tony frowned. "Has something happened?" he asked, not getting up just yet. "Are we under attack?"

"Not that I know of. Do you need assistance?" she asked, changing the subject slightly, and Tony bristled.

"No," he replied, then snapped his fingers and reached out. One of the bots was at his side in an instant and Tony used the robot's body to lift himself to his feet and find his balance. "What is this about?" he asked again.

"It will all become clear soon enough," the woman promised, and then Tony felt someone taking his arm. The touch was firm and not a woman's, which made him shift away from the intruding touch.

"We don't have time to waste," a male voice informed him. This one was either military or S.H.I.E.L.D.

Tony tried shaking off the hand, and the bot he wasn't currently holding onto let out a sharp noise from across the room, moving closer. "Let go of my arm," Tony ordered, but instead of letting go, the fingers tightened.

"This is for your own good," the man told him and pulled him forward.

"What is?" Tony snapped, suddenly not at all comfortable with the situation.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. started, the AI's tone suggesting he shared Tony's apprehension.

"Please, come with us," the woman pleaded again. "You will be safe, I promise."

"Do the other Avengers know you are here?" Tony asked them, still trying to release himself. He let go of the bot at his side and tried prying the man's touch from his arm, which wasn't working – not before one of the bots must have intervened, causing the man to jump and let out a cry of pain.

"Tell your robots to back off!" the man snapped at Tony, and the grip that had loosened briefly returned twice as hard. Clearly they had moved from polite requests to brutal force in short order.

"How about you back off before one of them runs you over?" Tony challenged. His pulse was picking up, and while he didn't like to do it, he would use Extremis to get these people away from him. Of course, he would have preferred not to burn down the room to make a point.

"He's heating up," the man holding his arm noted.

"Shit," the woman murmured. Tony was so used to listening for small, previously insignificant sounds that he caught it easily. "Hold him still; I'll sedate him."

"No, you won't," Tony balked, fighting the grip. "Get off me, or you might lose that hand."

"Nurse?" the man called out.

"Hold him still," she ordered, moving into the room – only to be blocked by the bots, probably, because she let out a surprised breath. "Get away from me!"

"Call them off or I shut them down permanently," the man threatened, and Tony thought he heard a gun holster being snapped open.

"You shoot them and I'll punch my fist through your face," Tony promised.

"This isn't necessary," the woman tried to say, sounding flustered. "You will be transported to a facility more suited to your needs, to rehabilitate you."

So, the day had finally come. Tony wondered why this hadn't happened the first time the Avengers were out fighting and Tony was left behind. Perhaps Rhodey's argument with his senior officer had something to do with it, the military's patience running short.

"Fuck you," Tony hissed and focused, feeling his body heating up in response to the threat he could not see.

"Give me the needle!" the man still holding onto his arm ordered, and Tony wished he knew what happened in the next few seconds because he would have preferred to intervene before he felt a sting at his neck and heard the telltale hiss of an injector gun.

His world grew fuzzy in seconds, the heat sucked out of him and disappearing, leaving only coolness behind. Tony was dimly aware of someone catching him before he fell, dragging him over to a flat surface, and then something closed around his wrists, cool and hard.

The haze disappeared much sooner than it should have because even though Extremis had been momentarily set back, Tony's designs hadn't left room for a lot of things to interfere with it. Once he could feel his limbs again, he tried getting up, but found his wrists cuffed to the surface he was lying on.

"Stay calm, please," the woman was pleading with him.

"J," Tony called out, the single syllable harder to form than it should have been. There was no response from J.A.R.V.I.S. and Tony tried to lift his hand up to check his ear, remembering too late that his hand was cuffed near his waistline.

Somewhere at his side, the bots let out furious sounds and then something heavy crashed into a wall – or a closed door. The bots' sounds grew weaker, and Tony felt a slight draft, as if he was being moved.

"Prepare the transport," the woman said, probably to the man whom Tony was going to personally beat into a pulp if he had hurt the bots in any way. The woman went on talking, a little breathless like she was walking fast: "Make sure they're ready for him at the –"

She was cut off by the sound of a massive crash and alarms began wailing all around them. For an instant Tony was certain the aliens were attacking, and while it may have served as a distraction to let him slip away, he was still doped up and cuffed to a stretcher or something like that.

_"Move away from him, please,"_ a voice demanded from dead ahead, and Tony's heart jumped in relief.

"We are authorized by –" the man started speaking.

_"Step away from Mr. Stark or I will fire,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. said through the familiar resonance of the armor's speakers.

"You don't understand," the woman tried her luck. "He will be looked after, away from the horrors of the war. He is in no condition to be dragged around the country!"

_"Move away, now,"_ the AI commanded, and it must have looked convincing because Tony heard her take a couple steps. _"You as well, agent,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. demanded, which meant the man wasn't cooperating. Tony closed his eyes, hoping things didn't get bloody.

"We have our orders, and some metal bucket isn't going to stop me –"

There was one sharp hiss and the sound of a falling body. Tony didn't instantly recognize the weapon but he knew J.A.R.V.I.S. hadn't used deadly force.

"Please," the woman pleaded.

An instant later, Tony felt something tug at the cuff around his left arm – then tear it apart. The same procedure was soon followed on his right hand, releasing him, and Tony struggled to sit up despite the dizziness that overtook him.

_"Are you alright, sir?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked.

"I take it you deployed Mark 50?" Tony guessed, slowly moving his legs over the edge of the stretcher he had been lying on. It swayed slightly beneath him as he moved his weight, further increasing the sick feeling in his chest.

_"Indeed. After I lost contact with you, it seemed prudent."_ The AI fell silent for a moment and Tony tried lowering his feet to the floor. _"Sir, it would appear there is some confusion whether the order to take you to a recovery facility in Houston is sanctioned or not."_

"Taking me anywhere against my will is breaking just a few of my rights," Tony grunted, trying to find his balance. "That's some strong stuff they injected into me," he confessed, uncertain how much J.A.R.V.I.S. knew of what had happened in the room.

_"There are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and military personnel on their way. Sir, for your safety, please get in the suit,"_ the AI requested.

Tony thought of fighting it, but given the circumstances, he would feel a lot better in an environment he could control – or in which he felt safe – and the suit was just that.

"Open it up," Tony ordered, swallowing, and he heard the telltale sounds of the armor unfolding to let him in. Reaching out with his hand, Tony felt around the familiar curves, then tried stepping into the armor. He missed his target by several inches, almost crashed to the floor as vertigo tugged as his head, and J.A.R.V.I.S. must have seen that because an instant later the armor was moving around him, enveloping him in a firm embrace that was almost suffocating in its suddenness.

Tony gasped, tasting the filtered air. The sounds around him were familiar but not at all comforting in a way he had expected they would be. He had a second to come to that conclusion before J.A.R.V.I.S. took the first step, and Tony grunted at the sensation of his leg being moved without his approval. Had he been limp and relaxed, it might have been different, but it was instinctual to resist the pull – and then resist the next step even more.

"J, this isn't working," Tony said. "Let me out."

_"Sir, that is highly ill-advised."_

"You're going to make me pull a muscle!"

_"Please try to relax."_

Tony tried, and then tried again as step after step took him somewhere he couldn't see or hear. His arm moved next, fingers extending, locking around something – a handle, perhaps, because the motion was familiar. He heard the bots again and the helmet carried their elated greetings to his ears.

Other sounds started coming in as well: shouts, commands – an order to stand down, to get out of the suit or power down.

J.A.R.V.I.S. did not reply verbally, perhaps expecting Tony to speak for them this time. The AI did move the armor into a slightly better stance in case of an attack.

Tony tensed, the pose feeling strange although it mimicked his usual battle position. He could not relax, try as he might, and the air in the armor was starting to feel thicker. He knew it wasn't a malfunction in the suit, though, but his body gearing towards a panic attack.

"Fuck," he whispered, trying to focus, to get with the program. "Just, can you not move for a bit?" he finally requested his AI.

_"Try to move with the armor and not against it,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. offered unhelpfully.

"How can I when I don't know where you're going to move it next!?" Tony snapped.

_"The motions are mostly derived from your usual patterns of –"_

"It's not the same as me doing the moving," Tony argued. "I can't see anything and can't feel anything but the suit, and every time you move even a little it feels like I'm being forced to obey."

The AI, hopefully, spent the next few seconds considering this. _"Would you like to take over instead?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked at length.

While that sounded tempting, Tony knew how it was going to end – and how it wasn't. "I can't see, J. Where would I take us, other than through the nearest wall?"

_"I could guide you – verbally."_

"Just let me out," Tony pleaded. His chest was feeling tight, still, although talking had made the worst of the panic disappear.

_"It is not safe. These people cannot be trusted."_ J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn't usually the suspicious type, but Tony forgave the AI after what had just happened.

"Okay," Tony sighed. "Take us back into the room, get the bots in there with us, and then just… I'll find a good position and we'll wait for the others to come back, okay?" He knew it could be a long wait and he hadn't even gotten a chance to eat yet. It was highly unlikely he would manage to sleep inside the armor, either, and if he did, he could just imagine the pain he would be in afterwards.

_"Shall I walk, or will you?"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. asked, not questioning the huge holes in Tony's plan. Most likely all the AI wanted was to keep him safe – and keep him calm.

Tony knew that if he tried walking in the armor, it would look highly unnatural. "You do it," he sighed. "I'll… try to follow your lead."

Even though J.A.R.V.I.S. warned him before each step and turn, every motion felt totally foreign. Tony didn't complain, to make it end sooner, and they finally made it back in their room, barricaded inside with the bots while S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and military personnel stood outside, arguing over whose idiotic plan it had been to try and smuggle him out of the base. Tony tried to relax inside the armor and closed his eyes to pretend that the darkness surrounding him was simply him resting his eyes after a long day.

If only…

_to be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9: Query - Solution

**Chapter 9: Query / Solution**

* * *

**Day 171 of the Alien-Human War**

Tony took a deep, steadying breath. He wasn't nervous, per se, because he was absolutely certain of what he wanted to do. Public speeches didn't make him anxious, either – at least not in the past when he knew exactly how to engage his audience. These days he could not hold his opponent's gaze while letting his mouth run them down.

"You know there's no pressing need to do this," Bruce informed him.

"Yes, there is," Tony argued, albeit softly. He had made up his mind – which Bruce knew – and the scientist's argument was voiced simply because it needed to be put out there and then dismissed.

They were standing in a conference room, just the two of them. At first Tony had planned on doing this while wearing the light helmet, but eventually decided against it: he should be able to do this without the added confidence of the implants.

Tony Stark didn't need to lean on a crutch to get this done…

_"They are almost ready, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. announced from the room's speakers. _"We are still waiting for Dr. Foster, but she's on her way."_

Tony nodded his head, eyes closed in concentration. He knew where the screens were on the wall before him. He might not be able to look anyone in the eye, other than by accident, but it wasn't as if anyone expected him to, either. Tony was blind, but that was where his shortcomings ended – now that he had finally reached that conclusion and believed it, too.

_"We are ready,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. finally stated and Tony thought he heard the screens turning on.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for taking a moment of your precious time to sit down for a chat," Tony said before anyone else could.

_"I believe I speak for most people in this video conference when I say that your latest batch of data and images from the Flag Ship have been keeping us awake at night,"_ Betty Ross stated. _"Hello, Bruce,"_ she added then, softer than when she was talking to the rest of them.

"You look well," Bruce replied, which may have been super awkward with all the other scientists on the line as well, but this was war and they all might be dead tomorrow, so no one said a word.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance," Tony noted.

_"I hear NASA and several other space-flight specialists are already in talks to send up more unmanned flights to attempt to gain more information on the Category 6 ship,"_ a man Tony barely knew by name and credentials chimed in, his Indian accent strong. _"After ignoring that approach for months, they are ready to try again."_

_"Perhaps to no avail,"_ Erik Selvig noted. _"We have no concrete proof that the destruction of the Category 6 is the key to winning the war."_

"Nor will we know, unless we dig deeper," Tony agreed. "However, there are many other approaches to the problem. We are still looking for weaknesses in our enemies, their physiology and habitat, and trying to definitively answer the question of whether the pollution of our waters is in the service to their race, or only the means to an end in annihilating all life on Earth."

_"I assume this meeting was not called to shed light on any of those issues,"_ Betty Ross guessed.

"No," Tony confirmed. "I am talking to you now to express my thanks for your tireless efforts to solve this crisis – and to tell you to keep up the good work."

_"A pep-talk from Tony Stark,"_ Jane Foster teased. _"To what do we truly owe the pleasure?"_

"I had an epiphany, in these last few days," Tony confessed, leaning against the table at his back, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes moved across the space where he knew the screens were. "My personal losses threw me for a loop for a bit, but I think I'm ready to get back in the game. There is much to do, and most of it is a hands-on struggle to keep our people safe. The Avengers will be departing from this base later today, and I will be going with them."

_"Do the implants really work?"_ Betty asked. Clearly Bruce had told her about them

"Sufficiently enough, and for the time being that's the best we've got," Tony nodded. "I'm leaving the fate of the world in your capable hands while I go kick some alien ass." Bruce shifted beside him and Tony liked to think he was trying to hide his smile. "It will be far more gruesome than that innocent statement implies; we all know that."

_"I'm sure your time would be better spent in a lab, not out there,"_ Selvig disagreed.

"I tried that. For months, I wracked my brain to figure out why the aliens attacked me and went to so much trouble to kill me. I paid a heavy price for their failure and am reminded of it every day, but I've decided to leave that behind and move on. When I figure out what kind of threat I posed to them, I'll exploit it to the fullest extent. Until then, I am joining my fellow Avengers on the front lines – not because I feel I must but because I need to do it while I still can."

_"If you fear your resolve will slip, perhaps you should not do it,"_ Selvig suggested.

_"No,"_ Jane cut him off. _"We might eventually win this war with a scientific discovery that allows us to crush the aliens, but until then, we need people out there to fight the war and buy us time."_ No doubt she was thinking of Thor. _"Your team will be glad to have you back, and I'm confident we can trust you to send us back any data that might prove helpful."_

Tony nodded. "That's the idea."

_"Stay safe,"_ one of the scientists from Japan said. _"The aliens are changing their tactics, and the stakes rise higher in every battle."_

"That's why Tony's joining us," Bruce replied before Tony could. "As much as he feels he needs to be there, we need him even more."

_"Good luck,"_ Selvig sighed, clearly giving up on talking them out of it.

_"All we need is enough time and a bit of good luck for a change,"_ Betty added.

"We'll give you all the time we can," Bruce promised.

One by one the world's leading scientific minds logged off until it was just Bruce and Tony again.

"Do you feel better?" Bruce asked at length when Tony had stood still, listening to the silence, for a few minutes.

"Somewhat," Tony shrugged.

"Well, I think I'm starting to see why you insisted on talking to them," Bruce admitted. "They deserved to know you are going to be out there –"

"It wasn't that," Tony interrupted him. "It's… a reminder, to all of us, of the war and what's at stake every day. I don't know if we'll ever find the answer that will end this, but if anyone can figure it out, it's them – and while they're at it, I'll put on the suit and contribute to the best of my ability." He reached out, pointedly, and Bruce moved his arm within his reach, then guided him out of the room.

"You know, you could still contribute from a lab," Bruce mused.

"And I will, eventually, but I'm getting tired of hearing these rumors that War Machine is replacing Iron Man."

Bruce chuckled. "Rhodey's been doing very well."

"Good thing he's never looked particularly good in red."

* * *

**Day 81 of the Alien-Human War**

It was an hour and thirty-six minutes before the door was wrenched from its hinges and Tony snapped out of the uncomfortable reverie he had managed to fall into.

"Tony," Steve's voice pierced the fog in his mind. "Are you okay?"

_"He is fine, Captain Rogers,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. answered for him.

"In the suit?"

_"Yes, Captain."_

"Can you open it?"

Tony felt the air shift on his skin, the pressure releasing from around his body. His clothes had gotten bunched up in places and his skin felt sore. "I'm fine," he reassured – then jumped a bit as he felt a hand on his shoulder. After the struggle with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Tony wasn't at all looking forward to another person touching him.

"Tony," Steve started, "can you step out of the armor?"

"Let go of my shoulder first," Tony replied, voice just as tight as his chest, although the pressure was easing a little. Steve let go of him, so Tony stepped away from the armor, blindly trying to figure out his exact location within the room.

"There are people who wish to speak with you, Captain," Thor announced from the direction of the door.

"Good, because I want a word with them, too," Steve snapped and turned, the sound of his boots heavy and purposeful against the floor. He was angry, Tony could tell, and he wondered what exactly had happened.

"All is well, Tony," Thor reassured him. "No one shall lay a hand on you again, against your will."

Tony nodded and then heard one of the bots moving nearby. He reached out and the bot rolled closer, the familiar touch of the cool metal reassuring Tony.

Outside in the hallway, voices rose abruptly, one clear above the others: "What the hell do you think you were doing? Who gave you the order to move him without his compliance?"

"Captain, there is no reason to –"

"He is a _person_, fully capable of making his own choices!" Steve roared. "You drugged him and attacked him."

"His armor broke through four floors," another voice rose in an attempt to match Steve's. "Moving Mr. Stark to a safer location, for his sake and for the sake of those around him, should have happened weeks ago."

"He isn't going anywhere," Steve growled. "If you think you can just sneak him out beneath our noses, his armor is the least of your concerns." Steve sounded like he was going to punch someone in the face, and when Captain America punched someone while he was in a bad mood, there was a danger of a permanent facial reconstruction.

'Bad mood' didn't sound like an appropriate term to describe Steve's fury, either.

"We trusted you. The rest of my team is still out there, fighting, and there is no justification for forcing us to divide our ranks," Steve snapped.

"You should not be here," the man he was arguing with said, and it was, obviously, the wrong thing to say because a slam of Steve's shield followed an instant later with the sound of a body dropping.

"Anyone else?" Steve challenged.

Tony's fingers tightened around the bot's body and he heard Thor shift, the air in the room growing thick as if lightning were gathering overhead.

No one spoke up, which was probably wise.

Steve returned to the room an instant later, a force of nature on his own. "Thor, help Tony pack his things. We're leaving as soon as I've gathered everyone's gear."

"Where are we going?" Tony asked although he didn't object. He didn't want to be left behind again.

"D.C., for now; I need to get back to the others."

"Why would you even come here in the middle of a battle?" Tony asked as the bots helped to place his few belongings in his bag.

"Are you kidding?" Steve snapped. "J.A.R.V.I.S. called us, saying that they were trying to take you away to some facility in Houston." He said the words like they tasted vile in his mouth.

"Not necessarily a bad thing," Tony murmured.

"You did not want to go," Thor cut in before Steve could reply. "You put up a fight, did you not?"

"I did," Tony agreed, although he hadn't really gotten to the fighting part.

"Then we have nothing further to discuss," Thor decided and they packed their things in silence.

Tony wasn't sure how they were going to get out of the base, but he carried his bag while the other two, the bots and Mark 50 took care of the rest, effectively moving all the Avengers' gear. No one talked to them as they traveled the corridors and ended up in a large, open space that sounded like a hangar.

"You," Steve called out to someone, voice still angry and conveying disappointment at everyone who wasn't part of his team. "You a pilot?"

"Yes, sir," a timid voice answered.

"You are going to fly us to Washington D.C. in that Quinjet."

"I need to check with my –"

"Now!" Steve snapped.

"Of course, Captain," the man almost yelped and ran up the ramp.

Tony would have found the situation amusing if it weren't for the day's events.

They climbed aboard, secured their cargo, and Thor hovered nearby when they took off while Steve was probably staring daggers at their pilot. Tony shifted on his seat and listened to the engines work, occasionally hearing a small chirp or beep from the bots. "You were worried about me," he finally said.

"Of course," Thor agreed. "Our leader feels especially betrayed, for he trusted our allies to look after you – not to try and steal you from us."

Tony wished Steve would just come join them and sit down so that Tony could maybe try and make him unwind a little. "I'm not his responsibility," Tony murmured.

"Nay, but all of us want to protect you. Today, we failed."

Tony wanted to argue, but frankly, whatever he said would make no real difference. All he could hope for was that whoever had considered this a great idea would recognize their error and serve as an example for how not to do things in the future. Tony didn't see how this incident could help the Avengers trust anyone giving them orders in the future.

They landed in D.C. in half an hour. Far away in the distance, Tony thought he could hear the sounds of battle. J.A.R.V.I.S. had not commented on it yet, though, so he guessed the battle was well-contained and that they were in no danger.

Steve released the pilot, telling him to get his own ride home, and the man literally ran out of the Quinjet. The bots chirped after him, as if encouraging the agent to run faster, and Tony tried to gauge the mood inside the aircraft.

"We should join the others," Thor murmured.

Steve was clearly hesitating and Tony cleared his throat. "I'll be fine with the armor and the bots. Go. Let me know if I need to get out of harm's way."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Get this over with and then we can figure out a new game plan."

Steve took a step, tightened some strap, and Tony could feel the blond's eyes on him. "I'm sorry –"

"Stop apologizing for something you couldn't predict and go ruin some alien lives," Tony encouraged, and with a single wry chuckle, Steve led Thor out of the Quinjet. Tony didn't hear anything beyond that, and after a while the armor moved and the Quinjet's ramp rose. He tried not to feel lonely or abandoned – especially when he wasn't.

_"I have been wondering…"_

"What, J?" Tony asked.

_"My calculations suggest there was no reason for Extremis to fail to heal your eyes."_

Tony sighed. "Well, obviously your calculations are off."

_"The damage is extensive, and until you find a way to alter Extremis' programming, you will be… vulnerable."_

"Do you have a point in all this?" Tony asked. He didn't want to think of the darkness he was trapped in – or about being defenseless. Today had been a prime example of how he couldn't shake off even two people without his armor intervening.

_"Indeed,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. confirmed. _"I have been considering an alternative option – a temporary one, while you find the flaw in Extremis."_

Tony cringed at the last part. Extremis had been _flawless_ when he injected it into himself, but to be proven otherwise was a painful lesson. As if he had a chest full of palladium again. "What's your idea?" Tony asked, knowing that J.A.R.V.I.S. was most likely putting together things the AI had picked up from Tony – and which Tony was too occupied to recognize as viable options at this point.

_"Implants, sir."_

"Implants?"

_"Yes. Theoretically, connecting implants to certain parts of the brain and the visual cortex could be used to send the brain imagery that could, possibly, simulate sight. If the optic nerves were still undamaged, that could have been the key, but the implants would bypass the eyes themselves –"_

"And go straight to the source," Tony finished. "That is…"

_"Practical, although it has never been attempted before, due to the lag in technology, not to mention that the average human body could not withstand the stress of such a procedure, not to mention the strain it would put on the brain."_

"I think you just described my brain as special," Tony teased.

_"Considering the effects of Extremis, I believe it would be possible to incorporate its healing properties in enabling the functionality of the implants."_

It sounded too good to be true – but also too logical to be dismissed. J.A.R.V.I.S. had access to a lot of data outside Tony's own databases, and the idea that the AI had taken a look at those things and dared to theorize that it might work… "I want you to draft a first version for Bruce to take a look at by the time they finish the battle," Tony decided. "I don't care how crude it is." He trusted Bruce's brain to be smart enough to see the potential in this. Plus, he believed Bruce was crazy enough to give it a shot. After all, the man had bombarded himself with gamma rays.

_"I have a few ideas ready,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. volunteered. It sounded like the AI had been sitting on this information for a while, possibly hesitating whether the plan would actually work.

"Good," Tony decided, leaning back against the wall of the Quinjet and closing his eyes. "Describe it to me – in detail."

He wasn't going to hope for a miracle, but science he had faith in, and J.A.R.V.I.S. had learned from the best.

_to be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10: Start - Outcome

**Chapter 10: Start / Outcome**

* * *

**Day 176 of the Alien-Human War**

The first sunrise Tony saw since going blind took his breath away.

Of all the things the implants had showed him, the sun looked closest to how he remembered it; the colors were off, but the brightness was the same, as well as the sight of the sky lighting up.

Footsteps approached him from behind, their pace slow, taking their time. Tony continued to stare at the rising sun, not knowing whether the other person's purposeful delay was for his benefit but taking it as such nonetheless.

The other person finally reached him and settled at his side. Tony checked briefly to see who it was, then turned his face back to the sun. While the implants still provided him with a wider field of vision than he required, he enjoyed the direct warmth of the sun on his face as much as the sight of it. "Times like these and you stop appreciating the simple things," he mused out loud.

"I started ignoring sunrises a long time before the war started," Natasha replied, yet she sounded more peaceful than she had been of late.

"It's never too late to start paying attention," Tony decided.

Behind them, at the root of a grassy slope, the others moved around quietly, the early hour affecting them all. Mark 52 and War Machine stood side by side, the bots cleaning them up with rags. It was unnecessary but gave the bots something to do so Tony had left them to it. Clint was sitting cross-legged on top of a crate, checking his arrows; his movements were precise even though he had looked half-asleep when Tony had walked past him. Bruce joined the others just then, stretching, looking like he had just woken up. Steve and Thor were stretching, no doubt planning on a little bit of sparring to wake themselves up. Rhodey stood slightly apart from the others, looking up the hill, straight at Tony. Well, Tony's back, to be exact.

With a small grimace, Tony tried to focus his attention forward, still unable to control the implants. It was entirely possible he would have to upgrade them in order to narrow his simulated gaze – or he could get used to the 360-view and not think twice about it.

"We still have time before the battle," Natasha told him. "You can take the helmet off for a bit, let your brain cool down." Clearly she had spotted his grimace.

"It's not my brain," Tony reassured her. "They clearly had no idea what they were talking about when they started that phrase about having eyes in the back of your head," he added in in complaint.

Natasha chuckled. "I know a lot of people who would kill for that kind of talent – myself included."

"If I find my skull pried open in my sleep, at least I'll know whom is to blame," he accused, although they both knew it didn't work like that.

Tony gave the sun one more look then turned and walked down the hill, Natasha trailing after him. They kept walking behind him these days, whenever Tony was wearing the helmet; it was like their way of showing that they knew Tony could see and find his own way.

"Hey," Rhodey greeted when Tony reached him. "Nervous?" he asked then.

"Not as nervous as you," Tony huffed.

"I'm not nervous," Rhodey disagreed at once.

"I can _see_ you are, so don't lie," Tony teased, looking at the tell-tale colors in his best friend's body heat.

"Okay," Rhodey rolled his eyes – at least Tony thought he did, because the implants had a hard time detecting that kind of motion. "But I'm more nervous for you than me, so that doesn't count."

"I'll be fine," Tony promised and nudged his shoulder against the other man's as he moved past him to get himself something to eat.

"I know we've planned for this and that this isn't your first time fighting any kind of aliens, but it's… been a while," Rhodey went on as they walked.

"I've already been in a couple fights since the implants," Tony reminded him. "Well, one, to be precise, but that one went really well!" He reached into one of the crates that held food, digging around until he found an edible-looking apple. "J, remind me the next time I'm eating to disengage the implants," he murmured.

_"Of course, sir,"_ the AI replied in his earpiece. _"Shall I deactivate them now?"_

"Nah," Tony replied, looking at the apple in his hand more closely. "Just tell me this is edible. I really can't be sure."

"It's fine," Rhodey said – snagging the apple from his hand and taking a bite.

"Hey!"

"It's good," Rhodey stated from around the mouthful of apple and offered it back to Tony.

"Keep it," Tony groused and got himself another that looked just about the same.

"Hey, Stark!" Clint called out. "Are you sure the enemy camp is still at the same location?"

"Yes, it is," Tony replied, carefully biting into the apple and deciding it was sweet and edible, just as he had hoped it would be. "Hades sent in confirmation just before sunrise; no movement other than another War Ship arriving for breakfast."

"Nice," Clint said and grunted as he pulled his bow tight to test the string. "A good day to go alien-hunting."

"Just stick to the plan," Tony told him.

"Since when do you care about the plan?" Clint asked back.

"Since I started wanting all of us to come back in one piece," he offered, trying to make it sound nasty but failing: they were a close group these days and losing anyone was an unbearable thought. Tony liked to defy the odds by thinking that they would all see this war to the end.

"It's a good plan," Bruce chimed in.

"I've never seen you so excited to go smashing into the enemy camp," Tony pointed out.

"It's been a while since you were my back-up," Bruce challenged, and Tony supposed that was a good enough reason.

"Less talking, more eating!" Steve called out. "We move out soon."

Bruce and Clint proceeded to cook up some proper breakfast and Natasha joined them after a while. Silence fell over the area save for Steve and Thor's grunts, and Tony walked over to the bots and the armors, looking them all over. Nothing looked out of place and he patted Dummy's arm absently as he finished his apple.

Thor walked past him once breakfast was ready, Steve following close behind. However, the super soldier stopped beside Tony, looking at the armors as well. "It's going to be a long day," he mused.

"Better go eat, then, before Thor finishes whatever's left of our provisions," Tony replied, still gazing at his armor.

"We might not come back from this one," Steve added, quieter now. "We're trying to do something no one's tried before, and it's just the seven of us."

"The seven of us will be enough," Tony reassured him. "The aliens won't expect it; so far, we've sat on our hands, waiting for them to come to us. Today, we attack _their_ base for a change, and it's going to be awesome." Either they triumphed, or went out in a blaze of glory, although most of the Avengers were too stubborn to just roll over and die.

When Steve remained skeptically silent, Tony guessed it was only fair that he try to boost his confidence: "You're the leader of the Avengers, Cap. We have the Hulk in the lead, the god of thunder bringing down the lightning, and two of my finer suits shooting at anything that won't stay down after those two are done with the first assault. You, the Hawk and Widow can kick back and enjoy the show. The bots will even bring you refreshments."

Of course half of their team wasn't just going to kick back and watch the fight: Clint was going to be shooting down Drones while Steve and Natasha were going to steal a few alien weapons to use against the War Ships that were present. They all had their part to play and Tony was relieved to find that he still had a place in the team after the little break he had taken.

"This is a beginning," Tony decided, looking over at their team and then at Steve. "A beginning of the end of the war."

Steve nodded as if he was willing to believe it. "Just don't push past your limits," he finally said, no doubt meaning the implants. Tony was conscious of the looks the others gave him, concerned that the strain would be too much.

"I'm not afraid of the darkness," Tony confessed. "I know that when the time comes and the helmet comes off, I only need to extend my hand and someone will grab it to guide me forward."

"Count on it," Steve promised, then led the way to the makeshift breakfast table to join the others. He didn't take Tony's hand, but Tony knew that when the lights went out, one of them would be there, waiting for him.

* * *

**Day 101 of the Alien-Human War**

Rhodey ran the trimmer through his hair for the last time and turned it off. Tony sensed his hesitation and turned his face towards the other man. "Does it look weird?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Then it's bound to get weirder," Tony offered him a grin before he let the expression fall. "Come on, Rhodes. Just get it wet and let's get this over with."

Rhodey sighed and stood up, then after a bit Tony could hear water running. He stood up as well, although more carefully, and Rhodey reached out to guide him into the shower. Tony closed his eyes against the water, allowed Rhodey to wash his hair, then waited patiently as the water was turned off and something else was rubbed into his hair.

"You're really sure about this?" Rhodey asked as he offered Tony a towel to wrap around his hips before guiding him back to sit on the stool.

"I've been working on this for almost three weeks," Tony told him. "The idea is viable, we knew that from the start. The implants are ready and I'm getting on that table," he said determinedly. "Now, shave my head. Please."

Rhodey sighed again and got to work. The slide of the razor against his scalp felt odd and Tony tried not to linger on the specifics. How in a matter of hours he would be lying down on an operating table and praying that his, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s and Bruce's calculations and predictions were correct.

"I can't believe we're doing it here, of all places," Rhodey said after a bit.

"It's fitting, I think," Tony mused. They were at Massachusetts Institute of Technology and had the best brain surgeons they had been able to get their hands on in the middle of the apocalypse to do the procedure. MIT had the lab space they had needed to manufacture the implants on short notice, and they were all set.

All Tony needed was to get his head shaved and he was _ready_.

"What if it doesn't work?" Rhodey asked, not for the first time. "Couldn't you just tweak Extremis somehow? I thought that was what you were going to do."

"That was the original idea – and is still a good plan, given enough time. However, this idea is…"

"Madness?"

"It's brilliant," Tony corrected. "Don't be so skeptical. J.A.R.V.I.S. would never have given me the idea if he wasn't sure it would be very likely to work."

Rhodey had to agree with that, at least, and he dutifully finished shaving Tony's hair. They had decided to let the goatee be, because Tony didn't want to part with it just yet, if he could help it. Shaving his hair off was bad enough, but if he was going to allow someone to drill holes into his skull and poke at his brain, this needed to be done.

The idea of what was to come didn't ease his nerves. Tony was well aware of what the insertion of the implants entailed and the term 'invasive surgery' didn't even begin to cover it. He was half-expecting their surgeon to back out, but for the time being he was on board with it and Bruce was going to be there to assist.

"There," Rhodey said. "Get in the shower and rinse your head." Tony did, somewhat awkwardly, while Rhodey cleaned up. "Want me to save a lock of hair for you?" the other man teased from the other side of the curtain, and Tony tried not to cringe at the mental image of his lovely dark curls lying in a pile on the bathroom floor. He sighed in resignation and Rhodey knew not to take the joke any further.

After Tony was done showering, he dressed in simple clothes. He knew it was only a few hours until he was scheduled for surgery and his nerves were starting to get the best of him.

They walked to a lounge area and it seemed the other Avengers had gathered around for a final round of jests and comfort.

"You look different," Thor stated and rather boldly ran his hand over Tony's shaved head.

"So, what exactly is going to be the difference between you and Frankenstein's monster?" Clint cracked from across the room.

"I'll be real and will punch you in the face once I'm finally able to see it again," Tony stated haughtily, and Clint made a quiet 'aww' sound as if it were cute.

"Are you certain this is what you want to do?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. "Stop asking me that. I didn't just shave my hair for shits and giggles. Also, Thor: you can stop touching my head now."

"My apologies," the Asgardian mumbled and withdrew his hand with one more fleeting touch.

"Thanks."

"Perhaps if you considered it a while longer, you would see how dangerous this idea is," Natasha joined the others' concern.

"Are you going to stop me?" Tony asked.

"No," she replied.

"Then why the concern?"

"I'm not convinced whether you're desperate or truly think this is a good idea."

There was that.

"I guess we'll know in a couple of days," Tony mused. The post-surgery recovery would have to be slow, to prevent any undesired effects, after which would come hours upon hours of tests. It would be worth it, though, Tony told himself. If he could see again, it would all be worth it.

A door opened and closed. "You're ready," Bruce's voice called out. He sounded peaceful although Tony could tell he was forcing it upon himself. "We're almost ready downstairs, if you want to start early."

"Yeah," Tony agreed because he was getting way more nervous than he had predicted.

"Tony," Steve started.

"It's going to be okay, Cap," Tony told him. "You'll see."

"I sure hope so."

"What's the worst that can happen?" Tony asked. "I'll re-grow my hair and be back to square one…"

"Or you'll die on the operating table," Bruce offered another option. Tony would have felt considerately better about it if it had been anyone _but_ Bruce saying it out loud.

"Or that," Tony muttered.

"It's unlikely that will happen," Bruce soothed his irritation while he explained the facts to everyone else – something they had already done before coming to Massachusetts. "If something should go terribly wrong, Extremis will take over and heal the damage."

"But you're relying on Extremis to make the implants work, too – but not fry them," Rhodey checked.

"It's a delicate balance between too little and too much," Bruce confessed. "I'm mostly there to assist."

"We'll be here when you wake up," Rhodey promised suddenly, as if someone had implied something else.

"You had better," Tony replied and felt Rhodey moving close. The hug wasn't entirely unexpected, and Rhodey waited for Tony to hug him back before letting him go.

"It will be over before you notice," Natasha encouraged.

Thor and Steve both stole a hug from him before Tony took Bruce's arm and allowed himself to be led to the elevator and downstairs to the lab where the surgery was going to take place. The space smelled overly sterile, mostly because it wasn't built for this purpose, but J.A.R.V.I.S. could monitor Extremis' behavior in here and it had all the equipment their surgeon needed.

"Mr. Stark," the man shook his hand. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," Tony replied, which was probably the truth. Much more of waiting and he was going to back out of the deal – although where he would go, he wasn't sure. His world was already filled with darkness and he wanted more than anything to advance beyond it.

"Lie down," Bruce encouraged and showed him to the padded table. There were a few pricks on his arms where IV's were attached, quietly and efficiently.

_"Sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. called from the speakers, _"everything is ready."_

Tony nodded.

_"I am starting the anesthetic. You will feel heavy and drift away. It is safe to predict you will be kept under for the next few days after the operation, should it be successful."_

"I trust you," Tony stated, feeling a bit drowsy. He meant his AI and Bruce, of course, because he didn't know the surgeon. He trusted the man to do his job and not fuck it up.

_"Just breathe, sir,"_ J.A.R.V.I.S. encouraged, his voice further away.

Someone grasped his hand – Bruce – and Tony held onto the sensation until it drifted away as well.

* * *

When Tony woke up it was to the sound of an explosion, dust falling onto his face from the ceiling, and everything was still pitch black. There was no one there to hold his hand or to guide him, but in the distance he thought he heard a familiar voice calling for him, telling him to move; to follow it.

He rolled off the bed, falling onto the floor, and did just that.

**The End**


End file.
